Like the Night
by Elsie girl
Summary: Sequel to Award Nominated But Wear the Chain. Hermione's life after a war and graduation is happier and more tiring than ever before. The only thing keeping it from being perfect is The Thing. The Silent Thing, that nags quietly late at night, that sits in the room when it isn't wanted. The mystery, she called it, but never aloud. HGSS. Please R&R!
1. One Evening

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does, and I make no money from this story.

 _ **A/N:** Welcome! The story before this was But Wear the Chain, and it picks up right after book seven ends, ignoring the epilogue. You may need to read that first to understand later parts, but I will try to make things clear enough you don't have to. This will come in much shorter chapters than the last, hopefully frequently. All feedback and reviews are welcome. This is a HGSS story, just so you know._

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Like the Night

"She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes"- Byron.

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Chapter One: One Evening

One evening, Hermione laid on her back like cat. The maroon throw fell off her legs, sliding halfway onto the floor as she repositioned. She could not recover herself because she had a fat book clasp in her hands. Without a word, Severus came to her rescue, picking up the blanket and recovering her. Sparing a glance up from the pages, she smiled in gratitude.

"How is it?" He asked, taking his own seat.

The fire was lit, even though it was early spring. Severus would not admit it because he was self-conscious about his age, but he grew cold easier than he used to and liked the fire. She did not mind. The rain outside cooled the air, and she enjoyed the sound of the small crackling logs along with the tapping of rain on the roof.

"Not bad, actually." She said. "I think this is the first novel we've printed," She sat up, eyes never leaving her reading, "that isn't complete shit."

"Well, since you've only just began publishing novels, I'd say that isn't a bad thing, my dear."

She always felt that hint of a blush when he called her that. It wasn't often. It was usually in that tone that he used when he was advising her against doing something she was going to do anyway, like taking on the printing shop as well as the bookstore at once. But she noted, smart as she was, he also used it in private moments when he was feeling particularly fond of her.

She sighed contentedly. Her feet were warm, her hands full of a book _she_ helped print. There was more than a little pride at that, though it came with sadness that she could not ring her mother and tell her. Hermione's life, however, that evening was as perfect as she could dare imagine it-the rain, the fire, the book in hand.

Hogwarts and her best friend were a pleasant walk away from their home, once called the Shrieking Shack, as was work in the other direction, or at least one of her jobs. In the Hogsmeade building she and Luna had moved the printing machinery into they began printing texts for Hogwarts latest professors starting with Severus' potions text. Luna's connections from her naturalist trips recently landed them the task of also printing Newt Scamander's latest book on magical creatures for Hagrid's class. Harry had begun working on Defense against the Dark Arts book and Neville wanted to pen a Herbology text, both of which were promised to her.

The school largely kept her in business. As Hermione had hoped, her stock of muggle planners she made magical, notebooks and stationary were popular with students. Since she also owned the bookshop in Diagon Alley, she could replace damaged or lost text books close by as well as sell almost every student their school books in London. She had been flooing and apparating in turns from the printing shop to the bookstore and back. Both grew tedious. But she saw Ron, Bill, Fred, and George in passing there as the older brothers worked in the neighborhood and Ron rented the flat above. It had been a while since she had seen Ginny, but the girl was busy with quidditch and Hermione was just, well, busy.

While she had always been more fascinated by reading things that were true and factual, she was so tired physically and mentally that a melodramatic story—the kind she hoped would sell to students as well as Hogsmeade's residents— relaxed and entertained her. She was thinner than before, exhausted, but content.

If she had not insisted on getting her way, she reflected, on defying the expectations and advice of pretty much everyone she knew, she would likely be sitting behind a desk at the ministry, slaving through a stack of papers. No bell would tinkle when she came in and out of work. And when she went home, it would be to any empty flat.

Instead, a few feet away sat one of the greatest men—a man who occasionally called her 'my dear' and who then wordlessly made some tea. The cup floated over to her, still steaming.

"Thank you." She said. He made some soft grunt of acknowledgement.

She had every intention of getting off the chaise and starting dinner, as it was her turn, truly she did, but the characters had just gotten themselves in a delicate situation and though she had absolute faith in the writer at that point, she was at a loss as to how on earth the protagonists would get out of it this time.

"I saw some of my former students in town today." Severus reported.

"Oh?"

"They said you looked much too cheerful to be married to me."

She laughed lightly. It took her a few moments of silence to look up and catch him watching her. She frowned. Had he said something she missed?

Yes, he had said something, only she had not missed it. The students had assumed they were…married. She supposed she should have been surprised by this, but she had not even noticed.

They lived together in the same house, home. They were lovers. They fussed over who would cook dinner and rowed over who would be invited to it. He sometimes took her hand in public, and once when they had been at the Weasleys with mulled wine, he had pulled her onto his lap. Occasionally, he surprised her with flowers. She surprised him with rare ingredients Luna picked up on her travels.

"Oh." She blushed.

He looked mildly interested then away. "Yes. You are rather obnoxiously merry these days."

"So sorry." She apologized. "I'll try to be less happy with you."

"You're happy?"

"Of course. Very happy. But I could always leave, if it bothers you."

"No need to be hasty. Maybe you could just quit your job."

"Nope." She defied from behind her book.

"One of them?" He tried in jest.

"No chance. You'll just have to get over my happiness."

"I'll endure." He said into his own open book in his lap.

"There's a relief." She tossed hers aside. "I suppose I'll make dinner."

"Oh, goodie." His sarcasm could have dripped onto the rug.

He stopped the pillow she hurled at his head with his wand hand. He did not look up or utter a word. He did not need to.

Hermione soon stood in her kitchen, the window facing across the clearing. Someone stood on the other side of the fence—the magically guarded fence with a new slew of "do not trespass' signs. It might be a student, sneaking into the town. It might be a reporter. Though it had been almost a year since they were together, both had yet to make a statement. The location itself was of its own interest, however. It might be a tourist.

Whoever it was, she ignored them. The other window included a view of the garden's corner. She pushed it open and prepared to make dinner. First, she summoned some vegetables. Severus was good enough to do the vast majority of their gardening. She said 'good enough' out of endearment. Actually, he became a downright crotchety old man and did not want any one 'messing with his herbs' and ingredients. It was just as well. The strawberries she had planted for him were the only thing she had ever planted that did not die, and she had technically cheated by getting Neville's help and using magic to save them from certain death. Severus had since taken over them as well and they were admittedly doing much better.

Still, she was determined to pull her weight around the house. Strong working woman she might be, but it was a tad embarrassing that he cooked better than she. The man was more mature and knew how to clean up after himself, so that was good. She had been upstairs to Ron's once, and it was terrifying.

Following her directions carefully, she began her work on Molly's meatball recipe. The pasta was easy enough. The sauce she had hidden in her bag—she had bought it from a muggle shop unable to make it successfully herself. The vegetables she cooked as he did, letting them cook magically, while she worked spice into the beef and tried to ignore the feeling of it going through her fingers.

The meatballs went into the oven, and she cast a glance around the kitchen, pulling out the jar of sauce surreptitiously. He'd never know the difference. No harm done.

One problem: the jar lid would not come undone. She strained, pinching her palms in the struggle. She tapped it on the counter. No luck. She panicked. She could not ask him to open the jar!

Doubling over, she put her back into it. "Ooooo." She groaned quietly, fighting the jar. It did not budge. She glared at the offending glass.

She tried wrapping her apron around the lid. A pain shot down her arm. She was NOT going to give in, though she felt a bead of sweat on her forehead. She wiped it away with floury hands and had another thought. Dusting her sweating palms with flour, she tried again to twist the lid free in one direction then the other.

There was a noise in the other room. Severus was going to come in—she just knew it! One dinner that was done properly, that he did not have to choke down politely, that was all she wanted.

She looked around, running out of time as footsteps approached. Meat cleaver—no. Screw driver—no, that wouldn't help either. Tea kettle. Jar of candy. Wooden spoon. No, no, no. The hallway floorboards creaked; any moment he'd be in the room.

Rosemary, bread, wand…

Wand. Brilliant, Hermione.

She grabbed her wand and opened the jar, poured the sauce into the hot pan with a sizzle, and tossed the empty jar at the trash can as the second Severus stepped into the room still wearing his black work robes.

"We have company." He said darkly just as the glass missed the trash and shattered on the wall beyond him. He raised his eyebrows at her in slight surprise. "I was less than thrilled myself."

She covered her mouth, eyes wide, stuck between apologizing and giggling embarrassedly.

"Sorry, Hermione." Harry spoke up standing next to Severus. "I can go." He was grinning teasingly. He didn't mean it.

"Harry!" She hugged him, flicking her wand at the mess to fix itself.

Severus rolled his eyes, his arms folded against himself. "Must you really hug him each time; you saw him two weeks ago." She ignored him.

"Of course you don't need to go." She assured Harry instead. "I've made plenty of meatballs."

"Well, er," he scratched the back of his neck. "I actually can't stay."

She knew that he was avoiding her cooking. A sandwich or pastry was one thing; that was good enough for them. She could not blame him, though. She had utterly forgotten the vegetables and Severus was saving them.

"Then what's going on?"

"I just er wanted to ask if Luna would be in tomorrow. I was going to drop off my next chapter when I take some kids into town."

"Oh, the joys of escorting little idiots to Hogsmeade weekends." Severus deep voice rolled.

"Sure. I've got to go to London." She told him.

"Okay."

"Is that all?"

"That's all."

"Couldn't you have just dropped by with it? Or owled— You came all the way here to ask that?" She laughed, stirring the sauce and checking the meatballs. They smelled mouthwatering.

"No, I was walking after dinner, and it wasn't far out of my way." He shrugged, taking a candy.

She blinked several times. There was a faint possibility bubbling to the surface of her mind. But it wasn't possible. "Wait, you wanted to know if Luna would be there? Luna?"

"Yes." Harry said slowly.

"Luna?" She repeated.

"No, I'm Harry."

"Stop it." She slapped his arm. "Why do you want to see Luna?"

"I have papers to hand over—"

"Save it."

"She's just…easy to talk to, Hermione. I need to get back to the school."

"Alright then." She let him off for then.

"And don't mention this to Ron." He added.

"Sure." She guessed that was who she had seen outside. "You really shouldn't leave the grounds. People crowd that route."

Harry shook his messy hair. "I took the passageway."

"Oh." She said. The smell of smoke quickly distracted her.

"I'll leave you to it." She heard Harry say before he left rather hastily.

Hermione scrambled to get out the meatballs, keep the sauce from burning, and get the vegetables in their serving dishes. By the time she had it all together, she turned to see he had set the small table and waited, standing in front of two flickering candles. The other lights went out at once.

She felt her tired knees threaten to go out as well as his stoic features were lit; his dark eyes bore into her, but they were warm. Whatever she had been worrying about, disappeared with the light. She stepped forward feeling as nervous as she had around him before she knew him so well, how he kept his socks and moaned in his sleep when he was sick. He smoothly took the plates from her hands and set them on the table.

There was playing at his lips his rare smile. It was small and almost sad if his eyes weren't full of something else. He rubbed the white powder from her face.

She was led in a daze to her pulled out seat and sat. Strong hands rubbed into her tense neck muscles. Hermione moaned in relief.

He crossed to his seat and inhaled, steadying himself for the false gusto he would offer her. She nibbled her food, wondering why Harry felt he needed to talk to Luna, not her. Had she pushed her friends away as Ron had feared when moved in with Severus?

"This is very good, Hermione." Severus said. She had not really been tasting her food, but she knew he was lying.

"One of these days I'm going to slip veritaserum into everything." She threatened.

"It won't work in food." He was quick to tell her, which she knew. The threat was hollow anyway.

Her mind drifted to Severus. He'd asked her if she was happy. Did _he_ seem happy? She always thought he was not the type to tolerate her presence if he did not want to, but why did he bring up the comment in town? Had it bothered him not because they thought her too young, but that her giddy immaturity was actually unappealing, embarrassing even?

After a moment, he added to silence. "This sauce actually is good. It's very sweet but tangy. Did you do something different?"

She choked on her meatball.

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 _ **A/N:** Hope you all are up for the ride that will follow. Please leave a quick review. Will up-date soon!_


	2. Not at All

**Disclaimer:** Don't own. Please see previous.

 ** _A/N:_** _Thanks for reading and giving this story a chance. To begin with, it's more like peeking the their window, but things will build. If you look closely, you can already see the sparks... Hope you enjoy this one._

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Like the Night

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Chapter Two: Not At All

"Hermione?" Severus appeared again, his wand light falling across her papers. She had not realized the candles were burning low until then. He sighed heavily. "You're working late again." He observed.

"You're one to talk." She shot back. She already felt bad for spending the entire evening at work. On top of that she had worked through dinner, apparently, again. Her head was tinging painfully. His hypocritical comment came at the wrong time. He had been disappearing into his basement to work on his projects for days on end.

She forgot the anger bubbling up when the heat of his breath hissed into her ear, "You promised."

She leaned her head back into him, resting on his chest and smelling him. Herbs. Something else. He pulled away, but before she could turn to see why he had pulled her chair away from the table and pulled her up by the arms. His chest was warm, solid, and smelled heavenly.

"Come, bed."

She sighed, too tired to put up a fight.

She was almost too tired to respond to his kisses even as they reached the curve of her neck. She was almost too tired to stay awake as he peeled off her clothes. Her arms were weary they could barely wrap around his neck as he kissed her, murmured something. She was almost too tired to enjoy his strength on top of her. Almost.

Only twice had Hermione ever been hungover. Despite the fact she had not drank the day before, Hermione Granger woke the next day to feel as if she was dying. Her eyes did not want to open. Her ears rang as if there had been an explosion. The room tilted like it used to before the Shack was restored, swaying as if in the wind. She tried to moan, but it was too much trouble for her raw throat.

The moment she forced herself to move, she regretted it. Her brain felt as if it had toppled over inside her skull and smacked the side with a thump. It was sore, and the more she woke up the more she felt it.

"Uuuuuugggghhh."

She managed to pop up from the covers, her hair falling so wildly a hand could not uncomplicated the mess. Her eyes stayed closed, knowing the room well, but the moment she was a foot out of the bed, she was felt it coming up, another hot mess.

Sweat seemed to race her, trying to cover her skin before she could make it to the bathroom to hurl. When she was done heaving, she sat on the floor a moment, clammy and shaky. In true Granger fashion, she tidied up, but she did so in true Hogwarts fashion; she would not have had the energy to move more than her wand hand anyway.

After a moment, she wiped the sweat from her brow, inhaling its salty sweet scent, and stood unsteadily on wobbly knees. Her head was swimmy, ideas of calling for Severus or sending an owl to Luna or a patronus to Harry… but she did none of these.

She made it back into the darkness of the bed, the cool sheets, and slipped away.

The second time she woke, her eyes flew open in a hurry. She was instantly aware that last time it had not occurred to her to send word she would not be working that day. She also had yet to see anyone. There was a warmed cup of tea at her bedside, the only sign anyone had noticed.

Throwing on a robe, she went down the stairs to find the owl, Bernard.

A voice stopped her on the way past the sitting room to the kitchen. "Hermione?" It was Ron.

"Ron." She said, unable to hide her surprise. "What on earth on you doing here in the middle of the day?"

Ron looked to his right from whence emerged Harry. Harry's face was bright, the happy Harry she had seen in recent months, and he seemed pleased to see her. "It's not midday. It's nearly eleven at night."

"What?" Surely she had misheard.

"I'll go and get Severus." Harry offered, not repeating himself. He clapped Ron's arm and gave Hermione a reassured smile as he passed on his way to the cellar. She wrinkled her nose and she watched him go. So Severus was down there working then?

Well, she supposed if he had been ill or whatever she was and asleep so long she would have gone back to work at least. Still, something about him being buried in his work too far away to hear her call while her friends waited upstairs bothered her. Had he even set out the tea for her as she thought? Or was it one of her best friends.

"Worried you, have I, Ron?"

He smiled, "A bit, yeah. You slept a really long time."

"Nearly twenty four hours." She said quietly to herself.

The sound of hurried footsteps coming up gave her a little comfort. Severus' face was on her at once, looking quite surprised.

"You're well?" He asked softly, slowly. He looked her up and down, not bothering to hide his relief even in company.

"I feel fine now." She looked about the room as puzzled as anyone. "Except I'm starving." She suddenly realized.

"Do you think you could have been slipped something?" Severus suspected at once.

"Not possible." She walked barefoot to the kitchen, rummaging at once for something of sustenance. "I did not eat or drink anything yesterday."

She paused at the unlikely quiet in the room, a fat strawberry sticking out of her mouth and her arms full of goodies for a sandwich as she turned to see them. Ron looked bemused that a person could go so long without food. Harry looked unsurprised. Severus had stopped and was leaning against the door frame, arms across his chest, glowering at her.

"I was busy!" She said defensively.

"Yeah about that, Hermione." Harry scratched at the back of his head. "We think you've been stretching yourself a little thin lately."

She swallowed automatically, ignoring her rumbling stomach. "You. Discussed. Me?"

"It seemed necessary when we were deciding if you had been cursed and if to call a healer." Severus said sharply.

"Yes…well." She took a full bite of cheese. "Sorry to have worried you." Hermione was busying herself with the crisp lettuce and slicing tomato with her own hands, juicy and ripe.

"Can I have one of those, 'Mione?" Ron asked, taking a seat.

She smiled at him, too glad he was finally comfortable to tell him no.

"Luna came and found you when you didn't show up." Harry explained. Severus remained conspicuously silent. She wondered if that meant they'd have a row when the others left. "She couldn't rouse you but didn't see anything wrong with you, so she sent word to us all and left you with some tea. She has forbidden you to cross the threshold or send anything her way for the rest of the week."

"Really." Ron's mouth was full of food. "She's put a charm on it and everything."

"Thankfully one of you wasn't a useless Gryffindor." Severus contributed.

"Well I suppose I'll pop in at the bookstore."

The boys exchanged glances then looked down at the floor.

"You won't." Sev told her evenly.

She was too hungry to challenge it. The witch was smart and if she had nothing else to do all day she would certainly find a way around whatever he had done. She had no desire to fight with him more.

"Very well. I'll work a little here."

"Your body shut down. Collapsed from exhaustion. That should prove you need a break."

"It does appear you're right." She admitted. "I may have, well, taken on a bit much."

"Bloody hell, Snape!" Ron declared after swallowing. "You've done it. She admitted she was wrong."

Snape made a funny grimace that might have been a half smile. She was a little concerned. It was disconcerting that she could unwittingly sleep so deeply for nearly an entire day. All she cared about at the time was filling her aching stomach. It still rumbled impatiently even as she filled it.

"I'd better get back to the school I'll tell Poppy you're up and about." Harry said.

Ron all but scrambled to his feet. "Right, I, er, better be going too."

"See you later, boys." She smiled not bothering to get up from her seat and not caring the meat was cold.

Severus did not bother to bid them adieu. He circled her for a moment, watching her carefully. She waited for it, for the admonishing that was to come where he would berate her for worrying him, for not listening when he told her better. She would feel her face burn with frustration at being talked to like a child but biting her tongue as she burned with embarrassment that he was, after all, right. She'd make a jab about his age and shut him up, earning a hard glare and an hour of silence.

To her surprise, he did neither.

"I'll be downstairs." And he was gone in his usual billow of robes.

Hermione tried not to be hurt by this and failed. It would be impossible to get to sleep at that point, so she thought to go for a walk around the property.

It was dark out, but that didn't bother her. Lights appeared here and there, fairies or insects. Noises came from out of the darkness, sometimes urgent, sometime haunting, sometimes just cracking and crackling. She enjoyed the fresh air, the feeling of her limbs stretching. It smelled fresh, a mix of a million plants. Recently, she could name held by smell. She had picked up more with months of being close to Severus and his work than in her years of study at Hogwarts. Herbology was always something she had to study, make keys. It was hard to remember the leaves and roots; they looked so much alike. Sometimes the name and its history made sense; she had to remember all of something to remember any of it. The scent though, that she learned from him was distinct.

As her feet pressed against the damp ground without a sound, there was a scent she did not recognize. She clutched her wand. Then there came a sharp snap, and she pulled the wand out. Things seemed to fall quieter.

She squinted into the darkness. Yellow eyes squinted back a little higher than she stood. A moment later they flew towards her soundlessly.

A large ball of fur landed at her feet. "Crookshanks! Oh, you gave me a fright, you fuzzy devil."

She reached down to pet him, but a moment later his hair stood stiff and he let out screech and scurried away. "Crookshanks!" She called after him. "What's gotten into you?"

The silence stared back at her as the cat disappeared, startled. She felt eyes on her still. For some reason, she was reminded of the person she had seen the day before out by the path. She was not very close to it now, just inside the wood line but barely out of reach of the light of the house. She could see Severus' figure in the window, a shadow mostly. He was watching her.

It was like a warm blanket, comforting her. She ignored the nagging feeling. It was midnight she guessed. She might as well go inside.

"Still angry?" She called into the house as she removed her shoes.

There was no answer, but a moment later he stood a foot away. He had made no noise. He wrinkled his nose. "I was not angry. I was worried. I thought you knew me well enough to tell."

"You're very mysterious." She admitted.

His hand brushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear. "I love you." He said. She exhaled, falling back from her tip toes. She had not realize she was on them; she did not realize she was holding her breath. "Is that so mysterious?" He barely spoke, the breeze of it ruffling her hair.

"What about your mysterious lab?"

"It's not locked." He protested. "Just delicate."

"I know, I know, don't disturb your precious potions."

"You hate it if I move your papers."

"I know." She sighed. "I think I may have overdone it a bit."

"People expect you to have no limits."

"You're saying I am limited?" She arched an eyebrow, challenging him.

He very nearly rolled his dark eyes. "Of course you do, bloody Gryffindor." It was an affectionate scolding. "And if you do not get better at knowing them, it will be the death of you."

"I have no limits." She teased, bouncing on her heel and passing him.

She shot him a smirk over her shoulder, swinging the hem of her robe. "I simply cannot sleep. Whatever will I do with my evening?"

"You're a very clever girl. I'm sure you'll think of something." His voice was impossibly low, his eyes suddenly hot as he watched her begin the stairs. He skipped quickly behind her, following closely.

"What were you doing outside?" His chest vibrated.

"Walking. I laid still long enough."

"I heard you exclaim."

"Something startled me." She recalled, thinking of the eerie silent wood a moment, then of the bed beckoning from upstairs.

"What was it?"

"Oh, just Crookshanks. He ran off. Now do you want to talk about the cat, or can I interest you in other modes of conversation?" She winked.

"Not conversation, so much."

As it happened, she managed to get enough exercise to even out her lie in after all.

Luna had, true to her word, prevented transmission of her work through any means. The fireplace had also been fixed to keep her from flooing to the bookstore. Even she, stubborn as she was, knew better than to try to apparate feeling odd as she was.

Odd indeed. First off she felt quite out of sorts waking up and odd hours and being home in the week. She barely knew the date or time. Then, she felt quite useless not being to work properly or check inventory or the books at either place, answer correspondence, fix the next issue of _The Quibbler_ … there were dozens of things to be done.

Mr. Welling had been handling most of the work himself for years. She supposed he would manage. And perhaps it was time to take one someone part time to help him when she could not be there. She supposed she could pay them with the rent Ron paid; and he did always pay it. He liked paying his own bills. A ministry salary went much further when you did not have eight additional mouths to feed, he found.

A helper would please Severus, she was sure. Not as much as other _things_ perhaps, but still…

Then there was Luna. She had been traveling, hunting down those humple-thingies, leaving Hermione with lots of the work. If her friend could go a little easier on it, stick around a bit more, the work might be split a little more evenly. Harry apparently, would not mind Luna hanging closer to the castle as well. She had not forgotten about that. Next time he came by, she'd ask about that.

She cleaned the house, save the lair of Severus'. She managed the yardwork but not the gardening, minus bringing in a few things. She went to feed the cat, but he had not eaten the rest of what was left.

Maybe Harry would drop by on his way back to the school, she thought. It was strange how lonely it could be with Severus just under the stairs. She made a fresh salad for dinner with some roast chicken and potatoes because they were easy.

"You've improved. Put your studying into this have you?" He asked, sampling a potato.

"I did buy one of the cook books I ordered for the shop. I've thought of printing one with a mix of muggle and magical recipes. Molly has some good ones. I think I can get a few house elves too."

"Of course you can. Though I thought they held onto to Hogwarts recipes rather protectively."

"Well, normally they do, but it needn't be too specific. And some of them who have chosen to leave Hogwarts, or who worked for fine families have been willing. It would be nice to pay them for their knowledge as well."

"Quite nice." She could not tell if he was humored or disdain. He was still hard to read from time to time.

"How goes your latest project down there?"

He frowned, wiping his forehead in frustration. "Not at all."

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A/N: As I said, if you pay attention you may guess where things are headed. Do leave your thoughts! It would make my day.

Yours,

Elsie


	3. That Way

**Disclaimer** : Please see previous.

 _ **A/N:** Thank you all so much for reading. Now for a slightly longer chapter... Hope you enjoy._

* * *

Like the Night

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Chapter Three: That Way

Harry was always the curious one. He had been the one to find Fluffy, the troll, wandering around in that damn cloak. Following disembodied voices was dangerous, she warned him. When she wasn't there, he followed spiders and centaurs in the Forest. He obsessed over following Draco. He tried potions. He tried wonky quidditch moves and bloody spells just to see what would happen. He peaked into the dark lord's thoughts. He was the one who gave the Deathly Hallows a moment, figured out Dumbledore's puzzles.

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but the Boy Who Lived was indomitable, she guessed. Ron was satisfied not knowing. I She was curious only to acquire knowledge, or, of course, if she was worried for someone.

That's what it was, she argued with herself, concern.

She also blamed staying in the house. It had been two days but it felt like ages. Apart from her sleepiness in the afternoon, she was perfectly recuperated. She'd already done all the work she could from home on texts and the magazine, fashioned a new schedule for herself for the printers, created a new add to put out for a bookstore assistant in the latest _Quibbler_.

The house was spotless. She had been on walks, made chicken salad, and caught up on her reading. It was his fault really, Severus, for using so many of his own spells to keep her from working. At first it was sweet; his silent conspiring and plotting was out of worry. When he cast her that brooding look, it was him imagining the worst and resolving to stop it from happening. Sweet if a little morose. At first.

Now she was restless and frustrated and sick of every single inch of the house she adored except that secretive lair under the stairs, his lab. So she was doing what any self-respecting woman cooped up too much is forced to do: wearing his shirt like a disheveled dress and long, warm socks, she crept along her own hallway and listened. She was certain he had slipped into the garden. Now she would just slip down into the homemade dungeon and see what he was brewing.

That's all. Not so bad. It was her home too, after all, as he had insisted. She could go where she pleased in her own, she told herself inching the door open. It squeaked.

Damn. She just knew he left it squeaky on purpose, a warning.

She began to creep down the stairs, resenting she was creeping. Resenting, but still walking carefully. It looked normal enough; she didn't know what she had been expecting. It was just a table with cauldrons. One wall was entirely shelves with ingredients. There were strange smells and a pleasant dusty one that rather reminded her of books. His scent crept in too, and something strange, dark purple was brewing, tiny bubbles curling around the edges of the pot as it simmered. It had admittedly been a while since she had taken up a potions book, aside from his, and she could not place that one. The smell was familiar, but as she wracked her brains, nothing came to mind that looked like that. Perhaps it was a new invention of his own. Then why did it smell so familiar? If she could just dip down and peek at his notes before…

"What are you doing down there?" His deep voice was curious, amused perhaps.

She turned to him with a tight, chagrinned smile.

"I was looking for you."

He raised an eyebrow. "You were not, you little liar. You knew I was outside. Now, if you're done snooping in your own house, I have a little something for you."

"Do you?"

"I do." She hurried up the stairs, his hand wrapping around her waist as he led her into the sitting room with a swoop, sliding her smoothly onto the piano bench. From out of nowhere, he produced before her some sheet music.

She blinked at it in surprise then looked up at him. He was smiling, startling white teeth making a rare appearance. She smiled reluctantly back.

"I thought you might like something else to do."

"That's very thoughtful, but," she looked back at the music, biting her lip and touching a key lightly with her. "It's been ages since I've played. I don't even remember how to read—"

A kiss to her cheek cut her off short.

"You? Not read? Never." He whispered. "I'll go and cook dinner."

Hermione sat on the stool, her bellybutton lined up perfectly with middle C. She planted her feet on the floor, then the petal, softly as if she might make a mistake and break it altogether. Silly.

'Don't be afraid of it.' She heard her mother say. 'It won't bite you.'

It was her father who was the better musician though, truth be told. She learned to read the treble cleft first. She would pluck out the notes of the little melody with her tiny right hand while he sat to her left, squeezed onto the bench, gracefully adding the chords or accompaniment in the lower key.

He never chastised her; never pointed out room for improvement. He did not sound, when teaching, anything like her.

'It's Leviosa, not Levvy-o-saa.' She could hear herself say.

No, it was always praise. Not so much as a slow down, a watch carefully, not a sit up straight. He sat in silence, watching, listening as she played. Only when she did it right did he say so.

'Smooth arpeggios there, love.' He'd say. 'Lovely, Hermione.'

She had not realized she was playing. She had to count the lines at first, say the little rhymes, but then she was playing. Like riding a bicycle. She was not bad. And neither was this minuet.

When she was young, and would practice so she could play for her dad, she was careful, gentle with each touch. She liked to hear the delicate tinkle, the deep resonating notes, letting one hand she would beam with pride. It was that same exact need for his praise that made her perfect each song, and each note he praised. She earned it. He never tired of acknowledging her accomplishments. There was born, she realized, the driving need she had for approval. When she was away from her parents; it was the teacher's she looked to for praise.

She could care less for the acceptance of her peers. She had to be, as Ron put it, the teacher's pet—or as her current lover had once said, 'an insufferable know-it-all.'

She had not realized she was crying.

Tears splashed on the keys. Her sniffles interrupted the song.

"Hermione?" Severus said from the doorway behind her.

She shook her head, trying to communicate that she could not speak. It was impossible. Her throat was constricted so painfully she might have been cursed. She tried very hard to force something out, pushing painfully. Things began to melt away, tears spilling forth in the effort to push whatever was choking her out. And then it came: a horrendous sound. It was almost animalistic. It took her a moment to deduce it was a sob.

Really, Hermione! Brightest witch of her age and she couldn't come up with a better plan than erase herself completely? Gods how she missed them!

She was crying very hard by then, desperately trying to smother it with both hands.

"Hermione?"

Again, she only shook her head and scrambled away, up the stairs.

It was a few hour, she figured. She needed a good cry. When she was finished she actually felt better, somewhat. Twice she had heard his footsteps just outside checking on her, but he gave her space. Once her face was washed she felt so refreshed it almost seemed silly to have been so distraught not long ago. Almost.

She went downstairs as if nothing was wrong. He was still making supper, some sort of ham by the smell. Rather than try to help, she busied herself with feeding the cat.

His bowl, out of the ledge where Severus insisted it stay, was still full, except a couple insects that had joined the neglected feast. She picked them out, tossed them away, and went into the garden to call for Crookshanks.

He could feel his eyes on her as he peeled potatoes, some by hand as the others by magic, over the sink. She ignored it. The weather was perfect, the air cool and the sun warm as dusk crept up. The woods near the garden gate behind the house were unusually quiet. The birds were usually quite vocal that time of year, but there weren't any.

She listened closely. "Crookshanks!"

Silence met her.

"Crookshanks, sweetheart! Come in!"

There was no mewing, so she gave in, feeling strange in the silent garden, eyes on her.

"I wonder where he's gotten to…" She said nonchalantly as she re-entered, still not making eye contact. His concern in his dark eyes would make her feel worse. Thankfully, he followed her lead and pretended the entire thing had not happened.

Dryly, he commented. "You give that beast more niceties than you give me."

"Jealous?" She asked. "Well I could always called you some pet names. Sweetums. Honey. Pooh Bear."

"What?"

"Oh yes, indeed. Pooh Bear of the Hundred Acre…never mind. That's your name now." She smacked his bottom with a dishcloth. He deserved to be made ridiculous occasionally.

The ham was delicious. Mouthwatering, honestly, and she did not even like ham much.

"How is it?" He asked at last.

"Bloody succulent, as you well know." She shot at him.

"Right." He cleared his throat. "I've learned my lesson."

"Have you?"

"I have. Trying to cheer you up failed miserably and making dinner well seemed to anger you for some reason."

"I am sorry about earlier." She knew he was teasing, but he'd broached the subject. "I just." She stared at her napkin, fiddling with it. His hand took hers. I was that Snape, that one he kept so hidden for so long, the one who had cared for Lily, and for Dumbledore, for Harry, eventually, and most of all for her.

He waited.

"My father taught me to play." They sat in silence, his fingers running across hers, until she broke the contact. Standing, she took her plate to the sink. "I'll get over it eventually."

"No." He said. "You never get over it." She smiled sadly at him. She could not be selfish; his mother was dead.

Bothered, he gave a rather dark and loathsome look at his plate—one he had traditionally reserved for Neville Longbottom—and left as well.

"Where are you going?" She called after him.

"To work."

It was precisely 'to work' that he stayed for so long she was no longer sure what he looked like, or so she said. She was not even sure he came to bed. It was either that or he came to bed late and went back down there early. She called Harry over for supper, since it wasn't his night to patrol, just to spite Sev.

"This is very unfair." She stood at the top of the stairs.

He snapped around, his hair flying askew. He seemed to angle his body protectively around his cauldrons. She rolled her eyes.

"You are working away down here while I'm still restricted from doing any myself. I hope you've brewed something to bring me back from insanity."

"I wouldn't dare." He said calmly, setting his things aside with order. "I like you exactly as you are."

She slapped his arm as he kissed her head. He smirked anyway as they went up the stairs. The strong arm wrapped around her waist again. He eyes the abandoned piano, sheet music still in place. He said nothing, eyes snapping back forward.

The meatballs were bad this time, she knew when she took them out and the scent on onion was too strong, they were too small and darkened. She could not think of one thing she had done differently, but apparently she had. There had been worse, but they weren't going to be good.

Severus always said being a good cook or a potions master was to brew things consistently even in different circumstances, understanding the interactions.

"Where's the damn cat?" He tossed the food down angrily as he came in from the once again drizzling rain.

"I think something startled him. I hope he hasn't gotten into a fight with some animal in the woods." Hermione

"He's probably off with some female cat, Hermione. It's spring. Tis the season."

"Lucky Crooshanks." She bent over to pull the food from the oven, trying to think of a way to salvage them and trying not to breath in their pungent smell. She felt his revenge once the hot tray was safely set down—a slight smack on her bottom. "Careful," she smirked. "We're having company."

"Are we?"

"Harry." She said. He did not even pretend to be annoyed, just uninterested, sitting down the paper. It must not have been good; he tossed it down as well.

"I'm hoping he will help convince you to let me free."

"You're free to come and go as you please, just not work." He said defensively.

"I think I've served my time."

He considered it. "You seem rested, but you aren't eating properly."

She slapped down her kitchen towel, turning to him suddenly angry: "Severus, you cannot keep me locked up in here."

"I know that." He sighed, no longer toying with her. "I was worried. You were unresponsive for a full twenty four hours." She could barely hear him. He swallowed hard, blinking several times and looking at him softly. "I can't stop you from returning to work, I know. Just please promise me you won't over do it, Hermione."

"I promise. I learned my lesson." She went to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and chest, nuzzling him from behind. She stood there a moment, not seeing his face. His hand clasped her arm. She breathed him in, sighed.

"Am I interrupting?" She turned to see Harry who had apparently let himself in from the secret passageway.

"Harry!" She laughed nervously. "How's school?"

"I think I understand why Snape was so mean." He said darkly, rubbing his brow. Snape turned to him, but Harry ignore him. "Do you remember that professor we used to have, Hermione?" He joked as she went to prepare the plates. "You know the menacing one, always wore black, and he had this huge nose." She shot him a mean look. She liked that nose, actually. It was regal. "Mean as a Hungarian Horntail…"

"I don't know." She shrugged pretending to be unbothered. "I always thought he was kind of sexy."

She could almost hear Harry's stomach drop to the floor, and she could feel Severus' smirk.

She pushed harder and she dipped out mashed potatoes. "He had this _voice_."

"Okay, stop Hermione."

"The way it vibrated through you when he spoke, so low." She feigned a shiver.

Harry had to sit down. "Okay, I got it."

"So… _deep_."

"Stop it! Merlin's sake. Are we going to eat?"

She sent the plates over, shrinking her own portions silently. They sat not awkwardly.

"Luna has Neville sending in his projects. I don't know how but he makes that plant stuff make sense. It's a Defense Against the Dark Arts plant guide. First bit," Harry sawed into a meatball with his knife. "is recognizing and surviving dangerous plants. Then, it's plants to keep around for cures and heeling, potions, you know." He nodded to Severus.

"He also told me he has this idea for a short one of the most common in Britain and their uncommon uses. He wants to use muggle information too, just not specifying. I think it's brilliant."

"Surprisingly so." Severus agreed.

"Oh and 'Mione, I gave her that stuff you sent me."

She froze, fork in her mouth, eyes wide. She was caught. Severus black eyes narrowed, lips pursed. "What. Stuff."

Harry looked quickly between them, not answering. He seemed to be finished eating her dry meatballs.

Hermione smiled sickeningly sweet. "Oh nothing," She told him, sipping her wine. It was dry and she did not like the taste she usually did. She spoke the next part through her teeth, "Pooh Bear."

He frowned in confusion. Harry spewed his own drink. "Right well, I've got to go grades papers…" He excused himself.

"Must have been nasty, this poo thing, if Potter cleared out. He's a bloody Gryffindor."

"It's not bad. I'll get you the book."

"Of course. A book." He sighed. "I suppose I should be impressed with myself I've kept you off nearly a week."

"I really do have to get back, Severus."

"Very well. We must do what we must. I'll have to make a trip for some new ingredients."

"Oh? Where?"

She stood to clear the table, but he did so with a wave of his wand, starting the dishes washing magically.

"New Zealand."

"Oh, I'll bet that's nice."

"I know. Shame you're not on vacation."

She bit her lip under his glare. He had won that point. She wasn't afraid of him though, walking over to sit on his lap. "I'm sure you'll bring me back something special."

"What would you like?" He asked.

"Surprise me."

He nearly rolled his eyes looking up to the ceiling. "You always say that, and you always have something in mind."

"I'll think about it." She pulled the hair from his face, examining his features. The idea that was hers was still remarkable. She pressed her head forward to kiss him when the bell rang.

Severus had scooped her on her feet in one swift standing motion, growling in annoyance. "That boy will never be around at the appropriate time."

"Like there could be an appropriate time for you to have Harry around." She pranced down towards the door.

"Well, perhaps if the Dark Lord returned."

"Don't even joke." She shot him a look over her shoulder before opening the door. "Forget something Harry?"

"Er, no, I think I found Crookshanks…" Uneasily, he pointed to the wood edge towards the school.

"Where?" Severus spoke first from behind her, his voice dark for some reason.

"That way."

* * *

 _ **A/N** : I adore you all for reading. I'll practically cheer if you review. Leave your thoughts, or just say hello._


	4. Darkness Opened

Disclaimer: Please see previous.

A/N: Sorry for the delay. I do want to say how much I enjoyed each of your reviews! I hope you like this chapter.

Warning: graphic description of blood, gore.

* * *

Chapter Four: Darkness Opened

"Curiosity killed the cat, it would seem." Severus sighed looking at the remnants of Hermione's dear pet.

"What the hell?" Harry breathed. "What _did_ that?"

"You should know this." He snapped. "What do you teach again?"

There was no real bite in the stinging remark, for which Severus felt a tad of disappointment. He was not even mean anymore when he insulted James Potter's son. His younger self would be ashamed, livid.

But then again the young man had shown himself to be every inch Lily's child as well. The boy's love for Severus, however odd and at first rejected, was like forgiveness from Lily herself. The child had lost every single father figure he had had. Severus himself never had a father figure save Dumbledore, so although he knew nothing of how to operate as said figure, Potter was easily satisfied. Any tenderness at all was like honey to him. If Severus were too friendly, the young man positively became a fly that would not go away.

When Potter had taken the job at Hogwarts, he had gone to Severus with every question and Hermione with every other, it seemed, so he was always around the house getting advice. While all the teachers supported him, of course, no one save the Headmistress and himself dared to teach the great one-who-lived a thing. Hagrid had very little to offer anyway in the way of lesson plans and unit plans and grading rubrics.

"Looks like an animal got a hold of him." Harry covered his face in stress, looked at the ground rather than at the mess before them. Severus nearly scoffed, then thought better of it and thanked the stars the boy had managed to still be uncomfortable with carnage and death. It was a small miracle, really.

"Someone hung this carcass," He sought the correct word.

"It's the school path. I thought I'd walk it for the air instead of taking the passageway. You think a student found the body and strung it up to scare someone?"

Severus grimaced. No, he did not think that, and for good reason.

"The lacerations are systematic." He observed. That was putting it nicely. There were cuts, smooth, but then they pulled the skin away from the muscle and bone, tearing. And those areas, the worst of it, were extremely blood soaked, hair matted and thick and solid from where the blood had dried dark brown and smelly. "As is the positioning. Whatever hung him up likely also killed him."

"Could have been a student. Some of those little buggers are sick." Harry hoped aloud.

Severus did not doubt that, but he did doubt some students who knew nothing of Hermione and who he had never taught would hunt and kill their cat then string up the body. He had not time to argue with Potter. Potter would chose to see the truth when he wanted to and not until then.

"Do you have a child in mind this advanced and this…deranged?"

"Well, no." He admitted, purposely daft. "But who else could it be?"

Severus just narrowed his eyes, glowering down at him in the darkness. Only the glow of wand light could have illuminated his features.

"No. It can't be, Severus." Harry breathed, knowing his meaning. He was afraid. He trusted Snape enough to show him that. "That's…over. They're gone. They're all gone."

"Not all." It hung on the night, now pristinely dark, the only other sound the wind rustling the massive trees full leaves and the faint hoot of a passing owl. Rex was still at large.

The motherless Hogwarts student, his father a muggle, had passed, like Tom Riddle once had, unnoticed except for his exceptional intelligence as a normal student of fifteen. The deep blood vendetta he had, boiling rage underneath the handsome surface, could not be guessed. He feigned a suave nature; he cleverly plotted and was patient, the warmth of his perfect smile and neat ringlets masking the cold, unfeeling creature within. Until he was revealed.

Severus' teeth and hands clenched, he shook, body flushed with heat and while his hands and feet grew cold at the thought of barging into that room in the castle: Hermione lay bleeding, her clothes torn, her feet unsteady, insisting she was alright even as she was pale. Rex was unconscious. Potter stood looking murderous as he saw the trap and Malfoy was looking stunned he had accidentally saved her.

"What shall I tell her?" Severus asked. His days of being too proud to seek her young companions' advice came to an end early in their relationship. The boys knew how she would react most of the time. He had to give the little snots that.

"That we tried but we couldn't save him." Harry shrugged.

"Lie?"

Harry shrugged.

He could hardly tell the whole truth. He was a master of lies before, but always tried to separate that spy from his true self, the person he was with Hermione, the way he had been with Lily. Now was a different self than then perhaps, but himself nonetheless. Lies were not something Hermione took well. Avoiding the truth to spare her feelings, he could do. That he had tried to save the cat was the opposite of truth; he had to end its suffering.

"I'll do what I can to dress this up." He began spell work to make the body more intact, to reduce the trauma to his …girlfriend. A word that still seemed so inappropriate. But Hermione was young. She had not dated much, had not been out of school long, and was still trying to find her footing in the world. He remembered how he had told Lilly marrying young was foolish, when he really burned with jealousy inside. Now he thought something so serious might be a bit much for Hermione with everything going on. She was never the type to eye rings or drop hints or care much for weddings.

"You can do that?" Harry watched as a pattern of spells repaired the corpse.

"Indeed." He said the spells aloud for Harry's benefit. They were different from healing spells, not the type of thing to be in the Hogwarts library, save maybe the restricted section. "Now, please pass this word along to Mr. Weasley at the ministry."

"Of course." They did not need to discuss what word that was.

He hesitated. "I need to go out of the country for a while. You'll keep an eye out?"

"Always."

Severus nodded and turned on his heel, cat in his arms to trudge the short distance back to the house where Hermione waited.

He was surprised she had listened when he had stepped in front of her, sensing something was wrong the moment Potter spoke. He had insisted very forcefully, a little meanly he now thought, that she stay put. Perhaps it was shock or perhaps she too dreaded what she would see and chose to wait for the bad news the way he would break it to her.

Hermione was surprisingly silent when she got the news that her pet since she was thirteen met an untimely end. There were tears though, the kind that created a wretched pulling feeling in his chest as he tried to comfort her.

"Would you like to bury him?" He asked into her hair.

She shook her head. "I think I'd like to take him to Hagrid's tomorrow."

He nodded understandingly. That man would understand her loss, the way he fawned over his own pets, and would cry with her as Severus could not.

She sniffled most of the night, thinking she was being quiet about it. It gave him acid reflux and made it impossible to sleep. His head raced with thoughts and his stomach protested her unhappiness, taking it out on him.

He had to do something about this. Enough was enough.

There was the smiling Hermione who had everyone over for dinner, even Draco Malfoy, and always said it was fine to have company. If she was overworked, she said it was fine. If he was grumpy or particular or unsociable, she said it was fine. When he caught her staring at pictures of her family for long periods of time, she said it was fine.

Then, there was Hermione recently, the crying the illness. He had kept silent about his own past, frustrated at the same time for missing things about her he felt he should have known—like that her father taught her piano. She had overworked herself, but he felt satisfied that her latest illness, strange as it was, had taught her he was right about her over doing it. Hermione Granger now had a plan, something that could well be relied upon he knew. And so knowing she was going to have more help and finish her muggle training, he could safely leave the country.

Thankfully, she was still busy enough not to ask why he was going. It did not please him that she still felt like she was prying to ask, like there was any distance between them, but now was not the time to correct that if it ever could be corrected. He had noticed the way she had begun peeking into his lab, not that she would be able to make heads or tails of his shorthand. There were things in that house, in his life, he had yet to reveal. Things she may not like.

No, he was certain she would not like them.

After this trip, though, he would hopefully be able to end that and so would end the secrecy.

But not yet. Until then, it was absolutely paramount that his paramour caught no wind of what he was up to, and strangely, they all seemed so used to him being private and tightlipped that no one pressed the matter.

After all, what danger could there be, really? So easily the young forget. Voldemort had come back before, and before him there was Grinderwald. The danger was never entirely gone, not really. That was a dark way of thinking or so Weasley, Potter, and Hermione found it.

Realistic, Severus maintained not dark. He was not all doom and dungeons. On the contrary, every morning—even when she was being particularly annoying—when he woke, opened his eyes, it was remarkable. He should be a thin, grey skeleton by now rotting away in a tomb people no longer visited regularly, or a pile of ashes long scattered on the wind never to touch again. But there he laid quite comfortably breathing fresh country air instead of smog.

And then when he looked to his left—ah, to his left— and saw this woman. He could not recognize her as the over eager little girl who had years ago entered his classroom. This woman had smooth glowing skin. Freckled here and there with dark gold spots it smelled faintly of strawberries and herself, and it felt divine, like touching satin. He never tired of touching her, breathing her in. Her hair was soft too, smelled sweeter, and cascaded wildly across her pillow. Sometimes when she was sleeping, she was smiling contently, un aging, perfect as a sculpture. Her usually studious face rested. He wanted to let her sleep, but he couldn't. He had to look into her eyes and see that…that unequivocal acceptance. He had to kiss her. He had to make her smile, light those perfect, little features.

He lived in a proper house not squeezed in next to others, with enough room for even all their books combined—magically of course. He had a proper garden for herb. He has strawberries, which was so much more than he deserved.

It was much more than he had ever had. Unlike the home he had come from, he never struck her. They did not shout. She was never afraid of him. Her company was quiet, but constant. She smiled a lot, and he found it often made him smile too.

It was not always that burning urgency love; it was deeper and calming, like cool waters washing away the ash.

But it was not complete.

Months ago he had the idea. When his last potion worked, the one that helped Longbottom's parents somewhat, Harry, himself and his wife—no! He must stop doing that in his head. She was young. In love with him she may be, but living with him did not make her his wife.

If he asked— if he, a Slytherin and not a Gryffindor, could summon the courage to ask her, then she very well might say no. Yes, this was only her third address since school. She was only her third man to have truly dated. But he was old, as she often joked. It may not be a problem now, but there was good deal she put up with without realizing it and good deal more she would have to put up with in ten years or so.

Or she might say yes. He might be wed—although he supposed people would have to be there and it would be a useless, elaborate expense—to the most intelligent and most beautiful witch alive. Naturally, people would expect children to follow. Whether she could have children or not after Bella's torture was yet unclear, and subject he had not even poked.

 _Should_ they have children was another question entirely. First, there was the age difference and his complete lack of fatherly skills, her own mother not being there to help, nor his. They would be utterly lost. Then, there was the matter of Rex and numerous other dangers. Even if the poor babe had the misfortune to take after him instead of Hermione, the child would be unimaginably spoiled, by himself, by her, by Potter as well, and trot off to the castle in for a rude awakening. "Aren't you the child of that former teacher and student? Going to bang a professor to keep the family tradition alive?"

He was not sure he could do it; even the thought of it filled him with fear. But he was sure she wanted it someday, children.

She probably wanted to change the world and see the world and all those things young people are always wanting to do. He found he more than ever wished to be shot of the world himself, holed up in his little square of paradise with his strawberries and his wife—no, not his wife!

That was the thing. To him, there would never be another. Never. But her, he had to leave that door open, didn't he? He could not sentence her to a lifetime of his company, not when he could not give her everything. He couldn't even stop her crying at the piano.

He watched her after he was packed. She was colored coding notes and putting something on her calendar, tickling her lips with a feather. The sun was hitting her hair, making it shine. Her big black eyelashes batted, brow creased in thought.

Then he promptly crossed the room, took her face in his hand, and kissed her. "You'll be alright today on your own?" He asked.

"I told you I would. I'll be fine. When will you be back?"

"In just a couple of days."

"Alright. If you must. On the verge of another great discovery?"

"Something like that."

"Why am I not included this time?"

He tried to shake his head dismissively. "It's all very boring at this point. I'll let you know if I have something. Be back soon, love." He kissed her head again. She did not get up, engrossed in her work as ever. He preferred it. It was hard enough to leave already, to keep things from her.

As he was leaving, a pang of guilt stopped his footsteps in the hall. "Hermione?"

"Yes?" Curled up in the chair, her tank top falling off, bare feet, freckles more pronounced from the sun, she was perfect. She shone.

"I am sorry about your cat." He said carefully, sorry to miss the burial. It was not what he meant, not entirely, but the rest of it seemed to not be articulable. Were there words? What could they be?

"Thank you." She smiled appreciatively.

Not sure what he wanted to say, he left it at that with a nod and left. By the time he was up at the path, he was furious with himself. What a complete buffoon! She was young and female! She had a book of fairy tales, for Merlin's sake. If he did not tell her how he felt, he would lose her.

And selfish, greedy hog that he was, he did not want to lose her. Not ever.

He stepped and turned, feeling himself lurch forward. When he landed, he blinked his eyes, and darkness opened.

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A/N: Thanks so much for reading! I'm currently at two roads diverged with this story-deciding which direction to go. Please take a second to leave your thoughts in a review. Sorry about Crookshanks! What did you think of Severus' pov? His secret? Planning to up-date much sooner next time.

Yours,

Elsie


	5. And Spilled

Disclaimer: Not mine. Belongs to JK.

A/N: Well, I could tell you all the things that have happened between the last time I posted and now, but all I can say is you are absolute angels. This might sound pathetic, but writing for you all on here has been the most rewarding feeling and biggest high of anything else I've done. So sorry about the wait, loves. I did not edit it much because I wanted to get this finished and up for you.

Chapter Five: And Spilled

3 Months Later

Severus stalked the streets of Hogsmeade. That much was clear. He stalked. Had those children that called him a dungeon bat been about they would have reveled in the sight of him then, but they were all gone, grown. New people haunted these streets, and he did mean haunted. Their pale little faces popped up everywhere unexpectedly, unbidden, and unwelcome as far as he was concerned. Pushing them out of the way was strictly forbidden when he was teacher. Teacher he no longer was and he was waiting for the one of the little scoundrels to hop into his path. Today would the perfect day for that.

He had a nasty habit of always remembering the village in the mid of winter, always on the cusp or darkness and always shrouded in a steely, glowing white. It was all mud for the moment. The black brown sludge clung to the low part of buildings like a needy child, to his boots and the hem of his robes. It clung to cart wheels and smelly horse hair swishing and flicking it about.

A few students made the mistake of treading too close to his path. He snarled at them in a way that _she_ might admonish—had she been there. He showed them his teeth. Good thing for them, too, sniveling brats tramping about the place as if it belonged to them. They stumbled backwards into deep mud.

He heard them whisper as he trod past, his feet failing to leave ominous music what with all the mud and squelching. He heard them whisper about him as he passed, murmur behind their hands, "That's him." They said. "He was married to _her_."

"He wasn't married." The other one corrected. "She was his student and they were living together…"

Without wiping his boots, for there was no time, he stormed into shop and printers, ignoring the "Temporarily Closed" sign which was painted in an absurd number of colors for no reason whatsoever.

"Any word?" He shouted into the empty room.

No response came at first, then a very small head appeared. With a swish of his muddied coat tail, he shooed the small face away. The little beast leapt half a foot in the air, made a high sound of surprise, all its hair on end and scampered away. It would have been stumbling soundlessly too had the nutter not attached a small silver bell to the thing, giving away its position at all times.

"Silver bells." He scoffed. Watching the tail of it go. He had gotten it for her, as a gift. He was trying to be nice, but he had never had the chance to actually give it to her. That had been _before_.

"Iron." The blonde appeared mercurially. He turned to her and glared. As usual, she was entirely unaffected. "The bell's iron. Keeps the pixies away."

"I see." He said. He had found it was easiest. "Any word?" He demanded.

"No." She answered.

"Damn!" Books flew off the shelf. The kitten had apparently been hiding behind some of them as he was disheveled with a screech. By the time his little paws—three of them white— touched the floor, his hair was straight up again, black as Peruvian Darkness Powder. Power flared like a gust of wind and tore free a mess of papers, swirling them about the room where they fell onto a lawyer of dust she would never had tolerated. "What. Is. The point. Of you." he asked, not expecting an answer before he tore open the door to stalk back to his house.

Another voice stopped him.

"Did he do that?"

Severus wheeled around.

"It's not as bad as usual." Luna Lovegood shrugged.

"You." He sneered through gritted teeth. They were begging to wear with the labor of him grinding them together so much.

Potter's eyebrows had the nerve to raise, actually raise in surprise. "What are you doing?"

"Paying a visit to my friend." He explained putting down a cup of tea.

"Tea?" He spat. "Visits? At a time like this?"

Potter rolled his eyes and Severus withdrew his wand.

"You're as useless as that blabbering ministry friends of yours! Miserable excuses for Aurors!"

"They're trying, Severus. We all are. I have to work and I have to chaperone the Hogsmeade trip. We still have to drink. You look like you could do with a meal and sleep."

Suddenly, the man felt tired. Perhaps it was how Harry had not even attempted to withdraw his wand that sucked the angry wind from the older man's sails, or perhaps the hunger and exhaustion had caught up with him at last. Harry conjured a chair just in time, which infuriated the potions master. He kicked it. Then, he was obliged to stumble ungracefully into it.

"You look terrible." Potter told him, sending over tea from a safe distance. "Worse than the normal terrible."

He attempted to sneer but feared it felt short. He was losing his touch.

"Is there nothing else that can be done?" He hated the desperation in his own voice, the kindness it brought forth in those eyes. It made him ache all the more. He ached everywhere now. He felt so very old, no match for her anyway. Still he felt with her the ache would be less, one of them anyway he knew would.

"We're doing all we can, I swear. We all want to find her. Any luck with your…" He shook his head, looking away, ashamed.

"It won't do us any good if you're dead when we get her back. And we will get her back, Severus."

They sat quietly as Severus sipped his tea. It tasted odd, perhaps poisoned he thought. He sipped it anyway. "I'll be back tomorrow." He said when he was done, his voice deep but weakened.

Potter made some gesture. Severus did not see what it was; he did not raise his eyes enough. He wished the sun would set already as he hobbled through the mud. He stopped at a thought in Hog's Head and ate a bit of something he did not notice. It was dry whatever it was. He took down a pint and returned to the mud.

The sky was finally greying, the students returning to the castle, but it only reminded it had been another day of an empty house.

"That's him!" Another obnoxious voice whispered. "He must know where she is. Why can't they make him confess?"

"Shut UP!" He shouted at them. He could think of nothing else and left them in stunned silence as he rounded the last corner of the building. There on the wall of it he saw her face, Hermione. The photo was taken from the battle. Her hair was coming free of its tie and her face was smeared with dirt, bleeding a little. She looked exhausted and sad and relieved all at once. She looked beautiful. She surveyed a scene he could not see. It was like she was looking past him, into the woods or something beyond its shadows.

"Look at me." He murmured the picture as it restarted its roaming gaze.

Above her the words were printed: "Wanted by the Ministry of Magic for Kidnap and Torture".

The paper caught in the breeze, revealing it too was not immune to the mud. He turned away from it and trekked the distance to his cellar lab without seeing it. There he worked through the night again. He only knew it was daylight when the line of sun broke through the boards and hit him painfully right in the eyes.

"Blasted!" He faltered, his tried hand losing its grip as his toe collided with the corner of a work table. His cauldron tipped, fell to the ground, and spilled.

"NO!" He roared. Something stung his eyes as he went to his knees, pulling at splotches of muddiness that was his useless concoction. "This was my last hope." He said to no one. He was speaking to no one, he thought with disdain. His eyes stung. He wiped the swirling eddies of dust away, but they still felt hot and peppery. Tears, blasted tears! What was this rubbish now?

He was nothing but a mess, a bloody mess. He stumbled drunkenly upstairs and insisted on sleeping for the countlessth night on the chaise. He pulled on the blanket, though it was warm and though it had lost her scent long ago.

To no one, he murmured as he dozed, "Hermione. Hermione, I'm so sorry I failed you. I failed you like I failed…" And he was dead asleep.

He jolted awake at a miserably bright hour he did not know. He was immediately offended. He did not know would could have woken him.

The answer swiftly became clear. There was a knock at the door, a rather insistent one.

"Alright! I'm coming." He tripped over some piece of his own furniture. "Damn…thing!" He cursed, unsure what it was. There was no time to find his shoes or button his vest. He opened the door to find Sillen.

"Do you have those pastes?" He got straight to the point.

"No."

"No?"

"It's not ready yet."

The man seemed unable to speak, but finally pulled in enough air to sputter. "Now see here, sir. I don't care if you are the best. I need those pastes, my patrons need those pastes. Right. If you can't deliver them, I'll find someone else who can."

The man restored his hat and awaited something. Severus supposed he ought to make some retort.

"As you wish." He managed, blinking in the sunlight. His head banged as if he were hungover. His eyes kept wandering to the forest edge. It was cool and shaded there.

The woods…she had been looking to the woods…could the key be there? He wandered past Mister Sillen and ignored whatever garbled speech he was making. He had to cover his eyes too in the sunlight. His hurt foot hit a rock.

Under the shade of the trees he blinked. Hey all looked the same, tall trees all around, green moss. It all looked the same.

"Hermione." He spoke to the moss and the trees. "Hermione, where are you?"

She did not answer. No one answered.

A/N: Please take a moment and leave a review. I wish you all chocolate frogs and butterbeers for reading. I know this chapter was short, as is the next one, but it's pre-written!


	6. Into Our Minds

Disclaimer: Please see previous.

A/N: Thank you once more for returning. As promised, the next chapter already. I cannot thank you enough. Also, someone pointed out a mistake in continuity from my first story, and you were exactly right lol I'm sorry when I take a break from a work I sometimes forget. It's super annoying as a reader though, and I'll go back and fix it. Hope I haven't done it again. As for those of you who are lost by the jump, hopefully this will clear things up a bit- couldn't resist.

Chapter Six: Into Our Minds

"I saw him just yesterday!" Someone was saying.

"Mister Sillen said he just started murmuring and wandered right in to the woods. No shoes on!" That voice he recognized even in his hazy state. The Headmistress was irate. "I can't even picture him in that state, Potter. What are we going to do with him? We can't commit all our time to the students and finding her _and_ watching him."

"I assure you, madam, I am in no need of a babysitter." It was difficult to make more than a croak, but he tried his best to make the croak as sardonic as possible. He was unsure if they understood him at all.

"What did he say?"

"Something sour." Potter assured. He was right for once.

"Give him some water, then!" The woman urged.

He wanted to push them away but the water was desperately cool. He couldn't remember the last time he had something to drink other than a pint and that small cup of tea at the shop. It took effort to swallow it all, since they had apparently rubbed the inside of his throat with sandpaper while he was out.

"What have you done to me, woman?" He said at last, sipping away the drops from his chin and realizing it was growing scruffy.

"What have _we_ done?" She demanded. "What have you done to yourself?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"That much is obvious. Hermione would be—"

"Do you really know nothing?" He pleaded, cutting her off, anything to stop the name from passing through her lips.

"Oh, Severus." She placed her hand on his arm. He cringed from her sympathy. "How can we?"

She exchanged a glance with Potter. He knew something then. He felt the cold from it, its weight as heavy as if lied across him in the hospital wing bed. "What?"

"Severus," She said carefully. "We have been thinking."

He sat up on his elbows at once. "What?" He demanded at once.

Potter, unafraid, took the lead. "No one could possibly stay as hidden from our efforts unless…"

"Unless what?" He spat. He knew where he was going, but surely he dare not.

"Unless Hermione was outsmarting us. Unless she did not want to be found."

"Nonsense! He has her; you know it's _him_." The venom he put into the last word was painful to his tight throat, but necessary. He refused to try to understand why they weren't as certain as he, or why they pretended it could be anything but him.

"I agree with Harry, Severus, that Rex has an aim to become something greater, maybe even the next dark lord. He is a planner, and a few months abroad are hardly enough time to plan something so good."

"You underestimate him. You always have!" He was already wasting time with this lot. He could tell the mood had been stale, they had been stagnating as of late. He had known there had to be a reason, and there it was. They thought she would leave him. Of course they thought that. They did not understand how she tolerated his company to begin with; they figured she had come to her sense and fled and was no hiding in shame. He began to stomp away.

They were wrong. He had lived with her and if Hermione was frustrated enough to leave him he would have not been able to leave him without a lecture on his failings.

"You underestimate, Hermione." Potter said.

Snape wheeled on him. "What did you say?"

"Enough you two." Said McGonagall. "Severus, you will not find her wandering barefoot in the woods half delirious from hunger and exhaustion. You need to be mentally fit."

"Why the woods?" Potter's tone changed to curiosity.

"She went missing in the woods, you buffoon."

"I know." He rolled his eyes again. "I was there."

Severus yanked out a chair and sat in the uncomfortable thing. "Tell me everything. Again."

"I already have."

"Yes, that's why I said 'again'."

"Just as I told you when it happened, and just as you saw when I showed you my memory, and just as I said when you gave me the veritaserum…"

Severus Snape watched out the window as he listened to the narrative, his eye trained on woodline until he had to blink. She wasn't going to just walk out of there. She wasn't. But he could not look away.

"You were gone." Harry began, as he always did.

He closed his eyes an embraced the pain, the absolute blood-letting guilt that sentence brought him. It always started with those words. Yes, he was gone.

"I went to check on her and she was feeling poorly. When I came back, she did not answer. Luna said she was so ill she didn't come into work. I was worried then, and came by again.

"She said she was worried you weren't happy, which was easy enough to think." He shrugged with the jibe. "You aren't a happy looking fellow. But I'm not good at that sort of relationship advice thing, so I owled Ginny.

"Ginny came to the school and talked to Minerva. Hermione also seemed to be worried you were having an affair, which was ludicrous. You don't like anyone." He shot Potter a narrowed look. "She was calmed, it seemed, but when I went over again she was worried that you…well, that you killed Crookshanks."

Absurd! Well, he would never have tortured the damn cat at least. How could she suppose him so cruel?

"I knew something was, well, off about her, but this time I didn't try to dissuade her suspicion, and she admitted she was in the cellar trying to figure out your new potion and if it was…a poison. I knew something was wrong, so I sent for you and asked for her to help me at the castle. I said I had to help Ron with something at the Ministry-that was my excuse for needing her to cover my classes. She was flustered at first about filling on late notice—I had 'insufficient lesson plans' and all that—but she started to enjoy it enough. She was more herself."

"At the castle?" He interrupted.

Harry nodded slowly. There was something to that, he was sure. She was more herself inside the protection of the castle, perhaps away from the fumes, or a spell or enchantment of some kind.

"I can't understand what would possess her to become so, paranoid." He wondered aloud. "I have never been the most talkative, or forthcoming, but,"

"I do have my own opinions on that, Severus." Minerva. "I had promised not to say anything and as she was not, it seemed not to matter…"

"As she 'was not' what?"

"She was emotional, I think, due to her belief she might be with child."

He had not thought of that. Of all the hours he spent thinking and thinking and thinking… he had never once thought of _that_. How daft could he be? It was certainly possible she could be, and that could have altered her mental state. She was overworked when he left her. If Potter said she was also sick, then it was even more likely.

"But she was quite relieved she was not." Minerva assured him quickly.

"Relieved?" Was that her reaction? Relief? Was the idea so distasteful?

"She was unsure how you'd take the news…seemed to think you did not want children." Minerva explained in her defense.

Well, he had said as much, hadn't he? She could not be blamed for thinking that. Could she really be so worried though, think him so horrible he would cast her out, say to get rid of it?

As he likely looked ashamed of himself the others let a moment pass before Harry continued, "That afternoon, Minerva came to be and said a student was missing from class, and that same student had been with a group caught out of bed after hours. The student had disappeared near the wood, so naturally I asked Hermione to help me go and look."

"As he knew you would."

"Come off it."

"You do not think _she_ could have kidnapped and tortured a student?"

"Of course no one thinks that!" Minerva said. "Our friends only let it go forward at the ministry at your go ahead, in our desperation to get news of her, a siting. If she was wanted, since her name was implicated, people would look for her more. But it had occurred to me how well she hid her family. If she truly was worried and not thinking clearly, perhaps she used the opportunity to slip away and have the…the child."

"The child?" He stood. It could not be true. It absolutely could not. He paced.

"She's a Gryffindor." He attempted at last. "She would not have run and hide. And what of Rex?"

"We've looked. Word is he remains in France."

"Then she's in France!"

"We don't know that. She may have gone to be near her family."

"She didn't."

"You can't be sure."

"I can. That's where I was." He said quietly.

"What?"

"I suppose I have been keeping a secret too. That's where I was, collecting them, trying my latest potion to recover their memories. I was trying to make her happy."

They were silent. He did not want to see their eyes, so he stared at the trees again.

"Is there no other avenue? Will you not try Draco?" He said at last.

"I will not try Draco." Potter stubbornly refused.

"Damnit, Potter, he could be our only chance."

"You go to him, then. He liked you."

"But he owes you. That will mean more."

"I don't think so."

"You do not know him as well as I. Besides, I accused him, in desperation."

"You must do better, Severus. You'll have no friends left." Minerva chastised him sadly.

"I don't need friends…I need…" He made to get his cloak and leave.

"And your business?" She urged. He knew she was being reasonable, but he had no time for it.

"Where are you going?"

"To beg a damn Malfoy. You're no help."

"Severus,"

"IT'S BEEN THREE MONTHS! Do you not understand what he could have done to her in three months? It's unfathomable."

"Or, she could be more than half way to delivering your baby." Minerva suggested.

"Have you all gone mad? Do you think she would dare do such a thing alone? Without a medical doctor or a healer? Would she not send for every book on the subject, be close to her family and her friends?"

"Maybe she is close." Potter murmured. "The forest is unplottable. I've been searching it, adding it to the Marauder's Map every night, but it takes certain loopholes. It's expansive, and parts of it change like the staircases, not every night but with the stars, might by why the Centaurs know them so well. Anyway, even we have to take breaks, Severus."

For a moment, the former professor balked. He could not find the words to express his keen surprise that Potter had finally had an idea, a bright idea, on his very own. He looked less like James in adulthood, perhaps for no other reason than James never lived to be such a man.

"I'll try to contact Draco." He said, putting on his cloak.

"We have to be careful," Minerva warned. "Not to retreat too far into our minds."

Retreat was not a word he liked to use in sound of theory, but even though he strode from the castle without a thank you, he knew Minerva was right. He could not spend too much time alone with his thoughts, which was ironic. He used to dream of the day when he would have a home away from streets—well, truthfully he never dreamed so well- but he did imagine a time, if nowhere else but in death, when he would be free of the pestering of students and demands of work. Free to sit in the quiet and think.

Free. It did not feel that way now. Severus determined he would not stew. He would eat, he would work on his potion, and he would rest. He would not imagine Hermione with a protruding belly or what a child of theirs would look like. He would not think. He would work, sleep, and then search the forest. He would find her. He had to find her.

A/N: I know the last chapter threw everyone, so hopefully things are becoming more clear. If this helps the next chapter is from Hermione's pov! Please take a second to review. again, I'm trying to get these out quick so I apologize if they look hasty in length and editing. It's only because they were hasty hehe. You're a dear for reading.


	7. Everywhere

Disclaimer: Not mine. See previous.

A/N: Thanks to all who have returned and especially those who reviewed! The reviews were lovely and oh-so-helpful. Please do not forget to leave a review. I simply don't enjoy writing for an invisible audience. You're too fabulous to hide.

* * *

Like the Night

* * *

Chapter Seven: Everywhere

Hermione found it very difficult to remember anything. She also found it difficult to keep her eyes open. There was a strange sound to her left.

"Harry?" She whimpered into the darkness. She could hear how weak her own voice was, and she hated it. It sounded like she was speaking from down a long hallway or from under a lot of feathers or after a lot of firewhiskey.

Her throat hurt very badly. It felt like inside her it was raw and bleeding like uncooked meat. But that wasn't what it was. that was making her sick, making her weak. It was her _arm_ , her stupid blasted arm. The thing was becoming weaker and uglier. It _smelled_ sickening, and it made her tired. She had difficulty doing anything for more than a few moments without becoming short of breath, not that there was much to do but move rocks. She had no bright ideas in the put of darkness. Her eyes ached and sometimes she was unsure if it was just that dark in the hole, as she called it, or if she couldn't see anymore. She pictured herself becoming white eyed like the dragon in the bank, but mostly, she tried not picture herself at all, filthy as she was by then.

She figured by the time she emerged she would be milky eyed and one armed and was thankful it was Severus who loved her and not someone who cared about appearances, though he cared more than many figured, himself included. She stopped thinking about him at once. She couldn't afford to cry; it had been too long since she had anything to drink. She really needed something to drink. How long had it been? And how long since she had eaten?

"Harry?" She croaked again into the darkness. She heard dripping, the continuous scrape of rocks, the same sounds she always heard, all hours of the day. Of course, there weren't hours. They weren't days. She had tried to keep track at first of time passing, but it became impossible without any light.

Her voice broke when she tried again. "Harry?"

"I'm right here, Hermione." Came her friend's reply from close by. She closed her eyes, savoring the sound. He had been her saving grace these past few weeks—she knew it had been weeks— in the hole. If Rex had been smarter, she thought with a remnant of her arrogance, he never would have left them together. Surely the only thing keeping them sane was each other. She felt his boney fingers, cold and clammy, prop her up on the damp rocks.

"I'm going to soak in a bath for an entire day when I get home." Hermione began their favorite game.

"When I get home, I'm going to kill Rex." He sighed, sitting, sucking down oysters or whatever they were. She did not ask. She was grateful to him for finding food. Merlin, Harry was resourceful. But it made her thirstier.

"When I get home, I'm never going to eat anything salty or slimy again." She vowed, holding her breath and swallowing.

"When I get home, I'm going to get the entire ministry to hunt him down …and kill him."

"When I get home, I'm going to lay out in the sun…naked."

"Hermione! Gross."

"Shut up." She laughed.

"When I get home, I'm going to put on some clean clothes, and go out into the fresh air, and get my hands around Rex's throat until his eyes pop right out…"

"And kill him?" She asked, smiling sarcastically into the pitch black.

"Yes." Harry growled and presumably threw something. She sighed. He was getting a bit annoying. So was she, she guessed. Harry's obsessive anger was trying her nerves and might have been more so if she were feeling better, but Harry had asked her to please stop talking about Severus twice. She had made a real effort to clamp her hand over here mouth, but the last—she guessed—couple of days, she had not felt much like speaking anyway.

"No water?" She asked.

"Sorry." Came his guilty reply.

"That's okay, Harry. You've done well. I, on the other hand, am useless."

"Not true. You're the brains of this operation. We're waiting on you to come up with the brilliant idea that gets us out of here."

"Brilliant?" She scoffed. "Remember my last idea?" She held up her withered arm.

"So," There was more scraping and a grunt as he made himself as comfortable as possible on the rocks. All of it was rocks, just as all of it was damp. "We know the place is obviously enchanted to keep us here. It's not impossible to survive for a while though, when it comes to food and water, especially not since he put us in here intact, if wandless. I still can't figure that one out."

"I've been thinking of that." She rubbed her forehead wit her good hand. "Rex is a sadist and he thinks the worst of human nature."

"He thinks deep down everyone is like him." Harry said bitterly.

"Yes, actually, Harry, I think that's exactly right. I think he's waiting for us to turn on each other, like it would amuse him."

"We know he idolized Voldemort to some degree." Harry added. "Not sure if this cave is a homage or a coincidence because they just think so damn alike."

"Either way, we may be able to predict his moves by what you know of Riddle."

"But why would he leave us together to figure it out? You of all people, and me, have to be able to find a way out of here."

"That's just it. He thinks he's smarter than everyone."

"Maybe he knows there's no way out."

"Harry!"

"Or maybe its location is isolated, on a cliff or something, so it won't matter if we do break free."

"Harry, we promised we wouldn't do this."

"Well, we haven't figured it out yet, so obviously we are underestimating him! This is our thinking time, right? I _think_ that he's not worried because he chose the location carefully. The hole is not the only thing keeping us in here. I'm thinking of it like the Triwizard tournament or the Horcruxes or the realms of protection on the Sorcerer's Stone..."

"So there will be three to seven levels of protection?" She perked up at that.

"Yeah."

She considered it. "I think you're right. We had better bet on seven." After a moment, she added, "Do you think he's coming back?"

It was silent except from the dripping for a pause. "I'm not sure. Sometimes, I think he wants us to waste away or turn on each other, but then I think maybe he's banking on us trying to get out, and that's where the trap is."

She considered it a minute. It was a good point, but she didn't want to despair. She had not told Harry how weak she was, though he must guess. She was unsure how much she could take, stuck there or trying to escape, before her body gave out.

"What is he doing out there, then?" She thought aloud. "Do you think he's watching this? Or…"

"That's the thing. I think he's doing something else. He couldn't resist playing with us if he was here. There had to be a reason he questioned us and all. I wish I could remember everything he asked."

"Me too. There must be a reason for that as well."

"I know, but I can't figure out what he's playing at with that. They must be after him. He had to know they would came after him."

"Of course, but he did have a rouse."

"The student trap? Yes."

"And he made you look mad a hatter first."

"But when we both suddenly went missing... certainly they must be..." She remained baffled over the rest of his plan.

"Maybe they've got him." There was noise as he stood. "Maybe that's what's keeping him."

"But Harry, if that's the case, then it might be safer to wait it out, the others will get our location out of him and come, and now we're going in circles again and I can't do that anymore." She clutched her head. The hair felt repulsive. She was afraid something had fallen on her hand it felt so strange.

"Well, then, let's guess at his obstacles."

"First, there's the cave itself."

"And we know of at least two spells he's used to make the walls impenetrable."

"The water rises, so there has to be a hole down there somewhere."

"But so far I haven't been able to find it." Harry said.

"And we don't know about the ceiling because we haven't stacked enough rocks." She sighed, wondering if they ever would.

"Still a sound idea though, I'm convinced." Harry encouraged. "I'm betting one obstacle is a trap set if we break free, and one is where we end up if we get out."

"They'll be another enchantment, outside." She pulled a rock free from poking her between the ribs. "So that's how many?"

"It's six Hermione, seven if there are two spells outside."

"Right, that's it then. That's what to expect."

"You're feeling worse, aren't you?" The worry was clear in his voice.

"I'm going to try to wash again." She sighed, tugging herself towards were the drips hit water.

"I'm going to look for … something. Anything."

The water burned, dried out the skin, but she told herself she needed to clean it. She washed out her hair too. She scrubbed the grim from her body. She felt the salt stick to her skin, the water that would never completely dry. She wanted to badly to pile the rocks, but when she tried to stand, her legs were weak and her arm screamed in pain as she tried to raise herself.

Her dry throat gasp out a cry, but the sound that she expected to echo in the cavern or rock and water was drowned out by a terrible collapse. Rock poured down from the walls and ceiling. It was a terrible clatter that could not seem to die, rocks pummeling and bouncing for several moments afterward.

"HARRY!" She screamed. Her voice rang back at her.

"Harry!" She yelled again. Panic seized her in a way it never had. Not only could she never hope to climb out of there alone, but she could not bear the thought of being stuck or escaping one moment entirely alone. Alone. For years sharing a dormitory with other girls, being an only child, being different, she often craved some isolation. Picturing herself limping at the bottom of the rock pit, in the dark, calling out for someone, anyone, until she couldn't call anymore, then dying alone, miles maybe oceans away from everyone she loved and cared about, was too much to bear.

"Please answer me, Harry."

"Hermione," He panted. "You are not going to believe this. Come here. Look at this."

"Look at what?" She gasped, fighting the water in her eyes, the pain there, her arm, her throat, her ankle as it twisted along wet rocks. "All I see is rocks. Rocks everywhere."

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A/N: Now, review! Please? I pre-written the next two chapters and I cannot WAIT to post them.


	8. Until

Disclaimer: See previous.

A/N: Thanks for reading and the awesome reviews. There was a glitch, so I couldn't see any for a few days, hence the delay. Don't worry, several chapters are pre written. This one is a bit longer, but I hope you like it. PLEASE review.

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Like the Night

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Chapter Eight: Until

"I don't see anything but rocks!" She cried. That was a lie. She also saw Harry standing next to the pile. It really was not that tall to have been working on it so long. Harry was even more pathetic. He was gangly and pale and…

"Harry! Where is the light coming from?" It was a flimsy, silvery thing, just pouring down in one blue white column.

Harry's gaunt face was beaming. He pointed a thin bony finger to the sky. "Cave in."

Her heart leapt in her chest, choking her. The air smelled freer. The moonlight hurt and simultaneously healed her eyes. "But Harry, the spell." She shrunk back, waiting for the ground beneath her feet to give way or the roof to crumble in and bury them.

Harry looked around, blinking. "I think – I don't think he expected that to happen. I think the magic keeps us from climbing or bursting through the walls, but he never imagined we would reach just the roof, or any damage caused by the structure itself. I think our work shifted pressure, or maybe it was natural, but either way.

"Just think we could have been right under that." She breathed, clutching her chest with her good hand. "But Harry! I think you're right." More than a minute had passed and nothing seemed amiss. Drips still dropped, waves lapped, and all else was still and dark. She felt no trembling, heard nothing sound an alarm or attack. "It looks like he never expected us to use non magical means to escape, which is exactly what we're going to do."

"So," He bounded forward, moonlight sticking to his exposed ribs, bouncing of his slick, black hair. "What's the plan, Miss Granger?"

She smiled. "We wait."

"For what?"

"We're going to need our strength." She explained. "I think we need some sunlight and some fresh water."

They made the stony spot under the light as smooth as possible and laid back. Each breath was drawn like she had run a mile, but she smiled up at the stars. They were far away, so far they could barely see them, but they were there. She stared and stared, enraptured, at the first thing she had truly looked at in so long.

Day break came and Harry gasped next to her. "Brilliant." He said.

"It is." She agreed, watching the colors smeared across their little patch of sky. As the sun came out, they had to shield their eyes. Her head pounded. She counted each thump inside her skull, minute by minute, hour by hour. Harry moaned at some point nearby, but she did not have the strength to ask if he was alright.

It was a day and a half that passed. It was unclear if what they were doing lying below was actually storing energy or just wasting away, but they laid there miserable getting some sun on and off, rolling across the little black pebbles, and waiting for some rain. When it did finally cloud over, the thunder teased them for hours. She could smell it though, a sweeter cleaner weight of water.

Ice cold drops woke her up tapping her parched skin. They almost hurt, but plesant chills went over her. With a sharp pain in her arm, she yelped as she turned over and looked up at the grey from which water poured down.

It wet her lips. She licked them, wetting her sandy mouth, and tasted the sweetness.

The pair stood, like new wobbling lambs, under the column of air and, not knowing how long it would last, tore their clothes—or rather peeled them— off, resting them on rocks and even rubbing them against the hard black stones and drowning them in a small puddle to get them somewhat clean. They washed themselves with their shaking hands, too desperate to wipe away the layer of filth to even think of blushing or looking away. Their bodies ceased to look human anyway. It did not seem to count.

They had their drinking shells ready to catch water and drank mouthfuls of it. Somehow it tasted sweet. They weren't even afraid of the lightening. They trembled in the cold as the rain continued, covering the floor, making little rivers to the salt water. They stayed shivering under the stream, drinking until their shriveled bellies were too full, until their skin was wrinkled and frigid and their clothes were soaked.

Only when the rain lasted well into the night did Hermione begin to rethink this indulgence. In reality, they were both stark naked, freezing cold, and there was no one spot in the whole of the hole that was dry or soft. There was no escape from the cold and the wet again. It felt like it was washing it away.

She longed for Severus' strong, warm body next to hers. Seeing the sky made her think of him, of where he may be, if he was worried. The sound of her teeth chattering was audible.

Harry vomited at some point in the night from swallowing so much after so long of being hungry and thirsty. He drank a little more water, and then tried again to sleep.

The next morning, they moved sluggishly, feeling hungover, into the sunlight's rays, dragging their rags along with them, and laid out under the white yellow column of light. They stayed still until their skin burned and their clothes mostly dried.

She was warm then, warm for the first time in so long, and although she was partially blind, she felt better. She put on her clothes, eyes down, and coughed to let Harry know he could turn around.

"Now what?" Harry asked, hands on his protruding hips.

Hermione was using her driest scrap of cloth she had left to try and wrap her wound. The skin was peeling off, blackish in some places and ghostly pale in others. She was not sure which color meant the worst.

"We need food." She said. Even with the water she was fighting to stay conscious.

"How do we get that?"

"Same way we have, I'm afraid." She sighed, looking longingly up at the now bright blue ring of sky.

Their stomachs could not handle much more raw seafood, even though an ugly crab scuttled nearby making Harry lick his lips. It was too wet to make fire. Birds occasionally sounded or flew overhead, making Hermione's stomach growl, a reaction she was ashamed of having considered more than once becoming a vegetarian. There was no way to get them.

There was another option, it seemed.

"Can you try while the water is low looking for some seaweed?"

"I can try." He agreed. Harry had gotten hungry enough to try seaweed many days or weeks ago. It was difficult to get to, and diving was dangerous. He might hit his head on rocks, or not get up in time to breath, or get swept away by waves, or cursed, or attacked by a shark. She always heard him take a breath and counted until he came up. He could get exhausted; swimming drained him on energy.

"I'll look for some bugs." She offered, scooting rock to rock and using her useful arm to pull snails from the wall, a beetle, even a couple of worms. They scoffed them down without breathing or thinking about it. Hermione thought of Severus' strawberries. Harry made a repulsed face as he slurped a worm.

"Mmm." She said.

"Delicious." Harry agreed.

"I'm glad Ron's not with us. He'd never have survived this." The pair laughed for the first time in ages.

One strip of seaweed, which they waited to dry out and a few insects sustained them for the time being.

"Protein, vitamins. We should have some fuel now. We can keep going." Hermione announced sitting up taller.

"And think." He added.

"I'd think better with some real rest. I haven't slept in I'm not sure how long."

"Yeah, half your face is dark circles."

"You don't look great yourself." She cut back at him. But they were still smiling or laughing; for the first time in a long time they had hope. They were together and they weren't dying. There was that. That was all there was until they could climb out of that hole.

"Let's see." She walked in a circle looking up at the opening. "He's not expecting us to use muggle means. I wish I had more engineering knowledge."

"I'm not sure the rock pile is going to work if it get any higher, we'll just slide down." Harry admitted.

"Nor am I, but we know we can't climb the wall." She rubbed her arm unconsciously but regretted it. "We have nothing to make a rope."

"Maybe we can build something against the wall." Harry stated.

"No maybe we can build something that doesn't touch the wall, a wort of winding staircase."

"How?"

"Tension."

"Okay I think I've seen that. Let's give it a try."

Hermione had feet and one good arm. They worked by the last of the daylight, the sunset, and then the rising moon. It seemed to rise directly over them and it was large and bright. This spurned Harry on, like luck was on their side.

It was mindful work. Most of the rocks weren't too heavy and the work was not fast, just methodical and repetitive. Every hour or so, progress would be clear, Harry would be higher up.

"Now Ron," He panted. "Would be good at this. It's like chess."

She picked out stones, tossed them up, pointed out where they might go. She only hit him in the head once. Well, technically twice. It was a small lump, barely bled. Her legs ached; Harry's back was bothering him. They squinted at their work in the darkness.

Then the crash came. It wasn't all of it, but one wrong fall and could have broken an arm or leg and then they would not have one able body between them. "Harry! Harry!"

"I'm okay." He didn't sound sure.

"Let me see." It was difficult to do so, but there were no protruding bones, no dark stain of blood.

"I'm fine." He pushed her away, frustrated. "How bad is it? How much did we lose?"

She surveyed the shadow stretching towards the only exit. It was shorter, but it was not all gone. "It's not so bad. Let's rest."

"I wanted it done tonight." He said, frustrated.

"Me too honestly. I thought if we worked nonstop we could get out. I don't think we're going to find more food in here."

"Me either." He said darkly.

The mood changed as if a cloud had covered the moon. They were running out of strength to escape.

"Maybe we should have gone down."

"I've been in that water, same as you. There's no way out down there, at least not at a depth we can handle without magic." Harry surmised. She knew he was right, but the ceiling just looked so far. "Without wands, but what about gillyweed?"

"It's native to the Mediterranean. This doesn't feel Mediterranean, does it?"

"No. But I could look."

"More energy."

"Maybe I'll catch a fish or an eel."

"We can't cook it." She shook her head.

"Maybe we should just stay put, try to send a signal now that we have an opening."

"We have to make a decision. I don't think we can wait any longer." She collapsed on a stone, tired.

"I have another idea." Harry stared up the wall. He started towards it.

"Harry, no!" She leapt up with a sudden burst of adrenaline to stop him. He must not be thinking clearly, like when he drank the salt water.

"No, no trust me." He removed his shirt.

"What are you doing?"

He tore the fabric haphazardly into strips as she watched in horror. Clothing was so much more important than she imagined it would be. He tied the strips around some rocks he carefully chose. They fit perfectly into his hands. Then he put some on his feet.

"Wait!" She said, seeing his purpose. "Let's make sure they are dry. Maybe roughed up on the bottom." She rubbed them with a rough rock and dried them with her own clothes. She couldn't even remember what they were, what color they had been.

She nodded, wishing him luck. Every attempt to get out was another gamble with his life. She wished she were of more use.

Harry began scaling the wall careful not to make contact with it directly. Hermione bit her fingertips, unable to sit or stand still. Her stomach rumbled and her eyes watered. She could feel her heart tittering away. It was worse than watching a quidditch match, though that's what she told herself.

"Relax, don't make him nervous. It's just like a quidditch match. Lower even. No bludgers. No speed."

"You say something, Hermione?" He grunted, pulling himself up onto basically a finger.

"No, no." Then quieter she concentrated very, very hard. Should Harry slip, she would have to use wandless magic to soften his fall. Without that, they'd be trapped and injured. Should she attempt magic before he fell though she would trigger something terrible, she was sure.

She counted every step, forcing herself to look away, then look, to take breaths that were more like painful gasps as Harry got closer and closer to the top he moved slower and she wanted him to forget it and come down.

She counted each time.

"Harry can you see at all?" She whispered up as he became a part of the black wall to her eyes.

"Yes. I'm getting closer. The moon is helping."

"Be careful." She urged.

"What do you think I'm doing, Hermione?" He sped up as he got close. Maybe he was running out of strength to hold himself up or maybe it was easier. She counted the last steps by sound alone.

It took 89 moves to make it to top. She watched a shadow grunt and slowly—so slowly, pull itself over the edge of the hole. Bits of rock fell away. She fell back waiting to hear from him. She could see nothing but the opening. She heard nothing.

"Harry?" It had not occurred to her that the top may be a drop off. "Harry!"

"I made it." She heard a bit muffled. Then the screaming began. She nearly wet herself, stuck down there helpless while she listened to gut wrenching screaming of her friend above.

Hermione thought for sure there would be an animal growl or screech or snapping of bones, his cries would die suddenly. She was wrong.

She called his name until her voice was almost gone, then sat down, covered her ears and rocked back and forth. The sound rang overheard, painful cry after cry, barely a breath between them.

She was going mad much faster this way. They'd find her mad, just as Rex had planned. She'd be rocking back and forth, unrecognizable, or maybe a withered skeleton on the rocks below while

She thought he had been screaming hours, but she was wrong again. It had only been minutes because the moment he went over the edge, the water had begun rising. She only realized it when she was sitting waist deep in water. She shot up.

Looking around, she saw the cave was flooding. "Harry," She called up. "Harry please hurry and get me out of here."

She looked at the pile of rocks, the walls were she dare not go. Harry was no help to her as he could not stop screaming. It made it hard to concentrate, to think. What was she going to do?

She inched her way up the stones, expecting them to collapse. They did not. The water rose though, quickly. Except where the moon hit it, it was just a lapping black mass climbing towards her.

When there was nowhere higher to go, she screamed for Harry again, to no avail. He was busy screaming. Her toes were wet again and she jerked away, afraid something was about to grab her. Nothing ominous was in the water it seemed and as she looked up she saw the opening looming over her. It was so out of reach. The waves were covering her and they were so cold. Harry's voice echoed everywhere.

She curled up on the rocks and cried. Was this what Severus found as she laid waiting for death? Had the screams of his best friend rang in his head? Were they so loud?

And the water lifted her up, off the rocks. She squealed from the cold. She dug her fingers between the rocks, but they pulled free and she was floating across the top of the frigid black water.

Floating. She could have slapped herself if she had a free hand. The water flooding was going to lift her to the top if she could float and keep calm. At least the cold was numbing her arm. She only had one hand to grab the ledge and she couldn't touch the sides.

There was movement below. Her throat tightened in panic. Something big was moving under her.

Rex, she remembered, was a Parslemouth. It. Was. A. Massive. Snake.

She scrambled for her life over rough stone, struggling to haul her weight over, eyes clamped shut.

She tumbled down onto smooth stone, more damp below. She sighed and might have fallen asleep if the noise had let her. Harry was still yelling and then there was another collapse. The top of the cave fell down on the snake, closing the entrance.

"Lucky." She panted, rolling onto her back. She stared at the silver moon before getting up and going to find Harry, a pale figure scrunched up in the fetal position, black hair on black stone. "Harry." She shook him. "Harry."

He was spelled, something had in pain or in fear. She thought quickly. How to break the spell?

She tried snapping him out of it, then dragging him away from the spot, and smacking him. Nothing and then she felt guilty for the slapping. She tried, body so tired it trembled, to break the spell using wandless magic.

Concentrate, she told herself. Concentrate.

After several moments, the screaming hushed.

Her eyes flew open.

Harry panted, blinking in moonlight. "We got out."

"I know."

"You okay?" He eyed her.

She nodded. "Snakes."

"Oh, sorry."

"S'okay. What was the spell?"

"I don't want to talk about it." He laid back, arms folded behind his head. She copied him.

It seemed they were high up on the rock, with not a lot of room to move, surrounded at least on every side that was not rock by sea. There was room there, though, to stretch out and as Harry said, "At least the wet stone here is level."

Hermione laughed aloud, half relieved half hysterical. "At least." And without making the conscious decision to rest, she slept until at least mid-morning.

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A/N: Thanks for reading. Did I mention I love reviews...love them.


	9. The Noon Day Sun

Disclaimer: Please see previous.

A/N: Just thanks to all who read and reviewed. Hope you enjoy what comes next.

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Chapter Nine: The Noon Day Sun

Like the Night

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The noon day sun woke Hermione. Her skin had become so thin and soft in the wet cave that it tore easily. And the filth that surrounded her crawled into the tiny, stinging cuts and had infected her in places. Her hair was falling out when she ran her hands through the rat's nest, her bones poking out too, like she was turning inside out.

Outside, though the wind was whipping over her skin, the sun warmed her all the way to the bone, it seemed. She dried up, really dried for the first time in ages, as did her clothes. She could feel the sun healing her. They were the cleanest they had been since they were thrown in there, though she still probably looked terrible. She couldn't imagine Severus' face when he saw her.

For many nights, she had dreamed of him blasting away the rock, scooping her up in his arms, and carrying her away to safety. She would finally be able to sleep then, finally give into the exhaustion without fearing she'd never wake up. He would take care of that. But now she feared his expression, feared the way he would look at her if he saw her now.

She pushed herself up, spying Harry.

It was difficult to see. Her vision blurred and sometimes doubled. If she looked at the water too much, it went entirely, which was a shame because that choppy sea in place of black stone walls might have been the most beautiful sight she had ever seen.

Harry, barely recognizable, was still unconscious. It wasn't really sleeping, he just couldn't stay awake anymore. Even resting, his movements were jerky.

She examined the ledge on which they rested. Rock behind them from the cave in looked almost undecipherable from the rest of the stone as if the hollow space had never existed. She supposed Rex might have blasted into the stone to create it.

Behind them, black rock rose in sheets straight upwards. Taking unsteady breaths and clutching the edge for dear life, she peeked over the edge. From what she saw the stone under them did the same. The rock did not seem to extend very far to either side, so it was most likely an island, a stone pillar jutting out of the sea. In one direction, land was visible, with a stony shore, small cliffs. It was hard to tell if it were east or west with sun at its zenith but the water was dark and the wind cool but certainly no snow in sight, meaning they were not too much further north. She thought it likely to be the Atlantic, since it was definitely not the tropics or Mediterranean. If she had to guess, she'd say they were likely not far from Britain.

It seemed Rex had flown them to the location, there was no way up or down, so not being far from the school made since. They could take their lightest bit of clothing and use it, with contrast, to catch the attention of a ship captain, she guessed. But it was unlikely people passed the spot often or Rex would have chosen another.

Had she the energy she would have tried for the millionth time to remember what happened with him. Or she might have tried to remember why she was upset with Severus before. It seemed so important, whatever she was preoccupied about when he left, but it didn't matter now. She couldn't recall it at all. She knew he was torturing himself over her and Harry's capture too. They were the only two people he had ever vowed to protect, besides maybe Draco.

Draco, he had been unknowingly used as well. Luna and Ginny were missing them, her work falling by the wayside, Harry's students. Ron, Neville, and the rest were probably kicking themselves for not finding her yet. Considering the way she looked, it must have been some time since they were thrown in, longer since they were taken.

Harry was right. They underestimated Rex.

She was about to open her mouth and wake Harry, but that's when she spotted them: eggs. There were five. They could only stand to eat one each, and even though she felt a pang of sorrow for the poor bird, they needed it.

There was a crevice in the rock as well collecting a couple of swallows of water. She woke him by shaking him.

"I found us eggs. Doesn't look like there's a way down. A bit of water's over there."

Harry pulled himself up shakily and dragged his body to the edge. It took a while for him to be able to see in the dazzling sunlight.

"I don't know. There has to be a way down."

"Not if we flew."

"Maybe if we jump and swim."

"Too rocky."

"Well, maybe we can use wandless magic out here without it triggering anything."

She considered it. "Well, let's see. How many defenses have we encountered? There were the spells to keep us inside. The spell that flooded the cavern if one of us escaped…possibly with a serpent."

"The curse if we did escape." He did not explain. She waited a moment in case he wanted to elaborate. "Don't forget the cave itself." He reminded her.

She _had_ forgotten. Her mind wasn't working well enough.

"Okay, so that's the cave, the spells to keep us in it, the drowning, the curse, the isolation if we did escape…that still leaves one more obstacle for us to face sans magic."

"If it's seven."

"It will be." She said with new found confidence.

"Why's that?"

"You know him, that's why for starters, and because, well, I think out luck is changing."

"I thought you didn't believe in luck."

"Well, how else do you explain our escape?"

"Our sheer brilliance."

"Sheer dumb luck." She joked, quoting their old teacher.

"When I get home, I'm going to kiss McGonagall right on the face." Harry said.

She smiled, turning away from the sun. "When I get home, I'm going to kiss my desk."

Harry laughed at that, clutching his swollen belly. "When I get home, I'm going to kiss…Luna." He admitted. She gasped.

"At last!"

"Well…aren't you going to say you will kiss Snape?"

"I—I can't think of him right now Harry."

"I understand. Then, how about we try to do some wandless magic to get a message to them."

"Right. Well, I think we know the patronus charm well. There's a variation of magic not taught at Hogwarts, I've read a little bit of it, where you send dreams or even familiars."

"Familiars?"

"Yes you know. Animals that send messages for us."

"Like owls?"

"Yes, but telepathically."

"Weird." He stood. "Well you work on that and I'll put all my energy into the only thing I'm good at: legilimency and patronus."

The saved their strength for this, squeezing into the only spot that offered any shade or protection from the wind. Unfortunately, the spot only offered one at a time, so they took turns. They sat in silence most of the day, shivering or feeling their pale skin blister. It was still better than being inside.

Later in the day, they could not be sure how long, clouds rolled in and covered the sun. Hermione could finally take in her surroundings save them for the image in the dream. Grass on the land to their east.

"You were right as usual." Harry's voice interrupted her thoughts. He nodded to the clouds. "Luck's changing."

"You think you could fly us down?"

He looked down the drop. "Nope."

"Climb?"

"Probably not and live. We should save our strength for our rescue spells."

She sighed, wrapped her arms around herself. The wind was picking up.

"Should have let you talk to that snake."

"I think they might be loyal creatures." Harry commented, fearlessly hanging his legs over the side of the cliff. She memorized the horizon and shut her eyes in turns, focusing, breathing even, trying to ignore the wind painfully pulling her air, chilling her.

"Harry," She finally admitted, skinny arms clinging to her thin form, teeth chattering, and hair hopelessly windswept. Harry's was as long as Sirius'. "I think we're going to have to get down."

"I know." He admitted. His lips were blue when he turned to her. Unless the others could get their message soon and get there, they would die of exposure, starvation, dehydration, or hypothermia on the face of the rock.

"But I've looked everywhere and I don't see a way down." He said. "We don't have the strength to do that sort of wandless magic. And the sea is too wild and cold now to jump in. I've tried to conjure the patronus. No luck."

"There has to be a way. Think. A muggle way." Try as they might pacing the small ledge, there was no solution in sight.

"Try thinking of wandless magic." Harry urged her instead.

"I only know most of it in theory. If only we had a wand! Magic put us here and I don't we can get down without it!" The waves crashed louder below them, the wind carried away her voice. She pulled her hair from her lips were it had become caught. Harry looked lost, a gaunt face framed in long, wild curtains of black hair. She would probably have to chop hers off short, as knotted and matted as it had become.

What a strange thing to think of—her hair! She was actually wondering how she would look in short hair and if Severus would like it, when the likelihood of her making it through another night was slight.

Ridiculous! Unless they could summon help or a wand… "Harry, that's it!"

"What?" He jumped.

"Remember when you summoned your broom in the first task?" She quickly blurted.

"Yeah… but I can't summon a broom without a wand."

"Summon a wand!" His eyes grew bigger. "You've been summoning long distance since you were fourteen! It takes much less power and concentration than a patronus. The distance might be great, but it's light weight and you might get an extra kick from your magic since you need it so desperately."

"I have summoned my wand before, but a wand I'm not attached to!"

"Your body will know how dire it is!"

"I'll try it." He agreed determinedly. Gathering his strength and concentration, Harry closed his eyes and extended his hand, standing rigid on the precipice.

She spoke into his ear: "Feel how badly you need it; don't think about why you need it, just feel the instinct, the primal need to survive. Remember the feel of the wand in your hand, the way it smells. Picture it like you're setting up the Room of Requirement. Expect it like you expect your broom to fly into your hands when you say up. Be confident." She breathed out, their deep breaths matching, adrenaline pumping. She couldn't feel the cold. "Concentrate. Summon your strength, then summon a wand."

"Accio wand!"

He waited, his face frustrated like he had not done it well enough. "ACCIO wand."

"It might take a while—"

"Accio wand!" He remained like a statute for minutes. More time passed. Hermione sat down. The cold returned, the sea grey more unruly, so did the sky. A storm could blow them clear off the ledge. She put her chin on her knees and tried to not lose hope, to imagine the wand was on its way, whizzing through the air above the ocean.

"Hermione," Came Harry's soft voice. She hesitated to look up if he had abandoned his attempts. The storm was coming, there could be no doubt now. Slowly she raised her head, tear forming, and saw that Harry was standing before her holding a wand at eye level.

"Oh gosh!" She stood up as if something had pricked her. "Oh, what a beautiful thing."

"I know. I've never been so happy to see a wand." It was medium length, but the wood color was stunning—birch perhaps— and it was remarkably smooth save one gnarl just below where the fingers rested.

They stared at it for a moment, but then the rock trembled, shook all the way into the earth. They threw themselves against the rock face, holding on to a surface that was too smooth to grab.

"What was that?" Asked Hermione fearfully.

"The seventh element." Harry answered darkly. Before she could do much more than stare in wide eyed horror and feel her mouth slip open, there was a terrible sound. She could not tell from what direction it came, only that it was, well, alive. And big. Very big.

"Where is it?" She called to Harry, trying to whisper and be heard over the wind.

"I'm not sure." He tried to peek around the side, but a few stones scrambled down towards them.

Hermione squealed and jumped out of the way.

Harry's eyes were transfixed at a spot some way above them, tough not far. She tried to follow his gaze as grey rain began to fall from a grey sky into the mist encircling them. All she saw was Harry and the black stone reaching up into the clouds.

No, that was not all. Two yellow eyes, huge, loomed above them looking curiously down at them, the body so greyish black it seemed to be a part of the stone. The creature blinked once and a new color exploded on the air—the red of fire.

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A/N: Wha? what did you think of this chapter? What will happen next? Where is Severus? Hoping to post more soon. Thanks for stopping by!

Elsie


	10. Almost Black

Chapter 10: Almost Black

Her skin burned even though the fire did not touch it, blistered it even just the breath off it. The scalding wind blew back her miserable hair from its sticking places and made her eyes water. She squeezed them closed.

The rock upon which they stood hanging over the sea was trembling, cracking underfoot and birthing like a dark iceberg columns that fell into the sea. The water burst into white fizz and quickly swallowed them up.

"JUMP!" Harry screamed.

"What?" She asked breathlessly.

Harry seemed to know her body would betray her and freeze to the crumbling spot. He tugged her hand with all his strength and wrenched them off hurtling towards the water.

A tremendous roar tore after them, but nothing as she fell was a coherent picture. Her eyes watered, the world flipped, and the pieces fell away.

She was surprised when she hit a solid wall, or floor. As soon as the water filled her gasping mouth, she realized it was not solid at all but a floor of water. They had hit it hard from too high up. She could feel her weak body bruising. But she could still feel, so there was hope. She tried moving, an ugly jerking motion.

Kicking towards the surface, feeling nothing but the need in her lungs and that her arm was still tight in Harry's grasp, she struggled. Sure, the surface might be on fire, but she still needed that air! She would breathe fire if she had to, but she had to breathe.

At last, her head broke through the restless surface. It was difficult to see anything other than the grey water stretching endlessly at all levels. Harry's head bobbed, dazed, next to her. He was bleeding profusely from his head it appeared. She put aside thoughts of sharks. They had enough to contend with at the moment, the very cold moment. Rocks still tumbled into the sea from the great cliff, missing them by yards or inches, making waves slap them in the face.

In the distance, she could just spy pebbled shores and heathered, greenish hills. But something flew over the sun above, no below it.

The beast, a dragon of some type she figured, circled the tiny prey floating alone in the water.

"Harry!" She yelled, coughing incoherently. "Harry! Summon a boat!"

Harry tried to move with some coordination, but failed, gurling some bloody, watering nonsense. She grimaced.

Rage warmed her stingingly frigid body from the inside out. This was Harry Potter, her best friend, a Hogwarts teacher. He was the Boy Who Lived, for Merlin's sake! He had survived Voldemort. He was not about to be killed by some young wanna be.

But wasn't that what always eventually happened? Voldemort became more fearsome than Grinderwald, and even Dumbledore was eventually outdone… This might be the very end after all.

Funny, she had thought the rest of life was going to be boring unspoken arguments, and endless inventories, and reading by the fire, and eating the same tired dinners night after night. And that was fine with her really, a lost cat, a late cycle, hell even an affair if that was what he was sneaking about... Children or no children or perhaps adopting a child..that would be marvelous... married or unmarried… it hardly mattered now. She had not missed this adventure. She still did not like heights. Her life had been perfectly fine as she'd left it.

But she had left it, and now she might not get back.

There was a whistle of air above them. She trembled with nerves and freezing cold, knowing time was short. She grabbed the wand from Harry's grasp. "Accio boat!"

Her hand was thin above her head, her mouth full of cold salt water, his skin a strange color. She watched it like it was someone else's hand as the beast's massive body covered and uncovered them in shade. It was lower. She knew it.

"Accio boat!" She growled. Come on! What was taking so long?

Harry's body was getting heavier, the water trying to swallow them. It was winning. Courage was getting them nowhere. They needed something to hold them up even if it made them an easier target; they could worry about that then.

The surface bubbled without heat and released the algae covered skeleton of some old shipwreck. Impressive though it was, it would never get them to the shore. In a moment, it was gone, dust falling on the water and covering her face like powder.

And then it occurred to her: the water was the only place to hide. They had to go down, down deep.

Recalling Harry's second task back in fourth year, she cast a bubblehead charm on them both, a sticking charm to their hands, and with all her remaining strength fired a propelling spell. Under the darkness of the water, they tore fast towards the shallows. They sped through the tunnel like a muggle roller coaster until unexpectedly they burst into the icy air. Hermione gasp, her skin protesting, muscles cramping. Even her mind stopped until their bodies skidded and collapsed against the sand and rocks.

As easily as she could have slept into sleep, she struggled to sit half stand up. From the picturesque and empty shore, she watched the dragon like, stone-colored creature screech angrily, unable to travel far from his perch, she saw. Still, she shook, watching him as Harry laid half in the water, unconscious. Her friend looked so white in the sun, like the inside of an oyster.

If anyone saw them, they might mistake them for driftwood, or dead bodies.

They might not be wrong, if it took much longer. The dragon did not come closer. She began to miss its fire as hypothermia approached. She tried a half hearted drying and warming spell, but found herself lying down on the beach as well. The distant growling continued in the distance as she fell asleep in the surf.

-00-

"WIll you help me?"

"Of course I will." Draco told his old friend and professor, or at least he told the man who resembled him. It was hardly possible to say anything else, not to a man in that condition. Snape's eyes were hooded with shadows and circles. He looked half dead already, which Malfoy silently guessed his girlfriend was. "But what can I do?" He asked, pouring them some firewhiskey.

"What can you do?!" He snapped. "You-you can...can…" He collapsed the rest of the way into the leather armchair, holding his tired face. "I don't know. I can't think anymore."

"I am sorry this is happening to you. I haven't heard anything, but I can offer a bigger reward. Surprised Potter has not already…" Draco was scribbling and the sound was unusually bothersome.

"They think she might be pregnant." He added, not looking up as he spoke.

"She wasn't." Draco dismissed without pause.

"They said she feared she was...hoped she was not."

"And did you," Draco pondered slowly, "Did _you_ want children?"

"I want whatever she wants." He said simply, not giving it much thought.

Draco sighed, making Severus feel even more pathetic.

"I don't believe she was pregnant. Granger would never be able to contain such a secret."

There by the fire, with only Draco, Severus finally swallowed his firewhiskey and let slip the words in a whisper that made it all worse. "I should have gotten her a kitten."

Draco either did not hear or pretended not to. "I should have told her what I was working on."

He took another bruning swallow.

"I should have married her." He threw the glass at the fire, hoping it would make him feel somewhat better. The leaping flames did nothing to him.

Malfoy wordlessly repaired it. "Are you alright? You're acting strange."

Snape glared at him.

"But do you know something even stranger…I hardly thought to mention it," Draco whispered. "Luna Lovegood doesn't think that's Harry Potter at the school."

"What?" His head shot up.

"Thinks he's an imposter still." Draco admitted with some skepticism. "You know Lovegood is loony."

"She's bright, though." Snape said slowly. "And she worked closely with Hermione."

"So she might be onto something, you think?"

"She's not to be underestimated." He said sternly. "But I am very tired." He sighed.

"Her theory is that Hermione is close, maybe in the Chamber of Secrets."

"But Potter has checked."

"Alone." Draco's said darkly. "And if he isn't Potter…"

"That means they cannot apparate out of there…because it's in the castle."

"And Rex would be able to access it…being a Parseltongue."

"I'll demand he take me down there personally at once." Severus stood surprisingly sturdy. "And you meanwhile advertise the reward."

"It's sent. I'm coming with you lest you do anything rash!" But Severus was already leaving, his cloak fanning out behind him. It had been a gift from Christmas. It really was a good cloak, though it wasn't quite his usual shade. _She_ had insisted on a little color in his wardrobe; she was always insisting. It was dark green, almost black.

* * *

A/N: Trying to post the end of this for you all after the originals were lost and a long hiatus. Thank you so much for your interest in this story. I'm not sure the end will be as well written, but there will be an end. All My Love, Elsie.


	11. Rose

Chapter 11: Rose

When they woke again, they were back in the dark. The sound of the surf was gone. Hermione was confused, standing in the moonlight, blinking. All around her were rocks, black rocks, black walls climbing high, high above. It could not have been all a delirious dream. The injuries remained. Moonlight streamed down into the damp, lifeless hole. How were they back inside? How?

She seemed to realize something in that moment.

They had escaped together, returned together, and if they were right about Rex… there was a way to escape after all because there had to be, there always was. He did not make it impossible to escape. That would be impossible and unnecessary. Instead, he made it impossible to escape together. That was the real cruelty. For him the choice would be simple, but for them it was impossible.

Really, she should have known long ago. He was not trying to trap them there. He was trying to destroy them.

She at least was just well enough to leave. She tried and tried to rouse Harry, feeling the sudden panic of being truly alone. It was suffucating. She couldn't bear it. She just couldn't.

"Harry! Harry, please." She begged, choking on her tears.

"Sleep, 'mione." He slurred. "Sleep."

"No, Harry. We have to try. We have to try." But did they? Did they have to? She was so tired.

She could not return and tell them she'd left Harry there. Wherever they were would be impossible to find again, she guessed, or he would be magically relocated as soon as she escaped. She could not live knowing she'd left him to die like this. And she couldn't face the others with what she had done to survive. Could she send him back alone magically? Would he make it? Probably not. And even if he did, how would she stay there alone?

She no longer had the energy to hate Rex. How could think of such a place? Is this how he felt, she wondered.

Maybe Harry was correct. Maybe it was easier to let go, to sleep. To sleep...didn't Shakespeare say that? They could die there together. Eventually, everyone would move on, she hoped. They wouldn't stop until they were found, though, and they would be so devastated to find them gone. She had to leave a message.

Eyes blinking open now and then, she laid one hand in Harry's the other on the rocks and tried to move the rocks into a pattern of words. They needed to know, if all they found was bleached bones, who it was. And when it was finally written, she gave into Harry's mumbling. She gave into sleep, wand lying useless at her side, Harry growing cold fast, and the stones read: it's okay. And it was sort of true, or would make them feel better.

She, very very bravely, gave up.

-00-

"NO!" Harry shouted, drawing the attention of several sheepish students in the corridors. "I don't have time for this! I've told you before, she's run away from you. I've already checked that place thoroughly, if you don't trust me..."

"But he told you, there's a special revealing spell he's uncovered he needs to try, one that is close to Rex's family." Draco lied easily.

"Please, Harry." Luna appealed. Snape thought he was avoiding her.

"No, I won't." He refused.

"Surely one more check won't hurt?" The headmistress was saying, trying to keep the peace. Potter whipped around and his eyes, his eyes gave him away. They were full of fear, like a cornered animal. If he had not been looking so desperately for Hermione, they would have seen it sooner. These eyes looked nothing like Lily. These were not Harry Potter's eyes.

For a moment, Severus had no words. He felt fear, cold deep fear like in the war. Lovegood looked triumphant beside them.

"Just the two of us." Snape calmly insisted. "Let's go down there, and,"

Harry began to refuse him again, but Snape was having none of it. He was finished waiting and done with asking. Something, something felt urgent.

"Imperious!"

"Severus!" He ignored them, all of them. It was easy. He had years of practice at ignoring people.

Prison, if it even came to that, was a small price to pay if this was who he suspected. Besides, Harry, the real Harry, could fight off this curse. Due to the imposter's avoidance, Severus was quite sure Hermione was in the Chamber now. She was so close. He had no choice.

Unbeknownst to the students they passed, Not-Quite-Harry Potter led them rigidly down to the bathroom and to the fateful sink. Hermione had brewed Polyjuice Potion in there as only a second year! She had defeated a troll, with some help, in another lavatory. She alone had figured out what was haunting the castle, and she had faced it and survived.

How could she ever think he would be unwilling to bring another person such as this into the world? He had seen the children there were plenty of, and he was unimpressed. A strange thought to be having in such a place at such a time. It might even be too late to think of such people being born, but there it was anywhere. And if this, this path could lead to such a possiblity...of such little, new persons... then he would name them for that path. Everything else be damned. He would name them Myrtle, he bargained, but somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered that bargaining was a stage of grief. He saw his face in the old glass and looked away.

-00-

The closer the entrance to the chamber grew, the more the Not-Harry fault the spell. It took some force to make him speak the word "open" in a hiss. Once the great doors worked their way open, the imposter pulled away, darting and stumbling in one direction. Fortunately, Luna dropped him like a deer with a stunning spell. They left him there, lying in some nasty dampness. He was of no more use. He had already figured out how to resist veritaserum. Anything he said was likely to be more dangerous than helpful.

The group silently surveyed the chamber, the pillars, and the face of Salazar to whom Snape mentally pled for help. I'll name them Salazar, I swear I will. Was she here? Was she so close this whole long time? Was she part of that rotting stench?

"Hermione?" He called, but there was no answer. Could they be wrong again? Draco shrugged. "Hermione!" His voice echoed back at him.

Still, no one spoke. Their footsteps slowly tapped their way along the stone floors to carefully inspected surroundings. When at last a charm brought down the mouth and opened it, inside where the snake had slumbered, there lay two bodies like corpses resting in a catacombs. Gently laid out on pale linens, arms crossed around their chests.

They ran to them, the others, but he could not. He wanted every last second of hope she could still be living. Weeping filled the tunnel. The whole place seemed too wet, too buried. He needed out.

"Severus?" Someone asked. He did not hear who and could not respond. The astronomy tower. He needed to go to the astronomy tower. That's where he should have died before. Before before.

"Harry's waking!" Luna screamed. He stopped.

Severus Snape had terrible luck. He had a rotten father, a poor childhood, lost his mother, lost his best friend, fell in with the wrong crowd. He was pale. He had an unlucky nose. He was rubbish at most games, and he almost always lost a bet. When he finally did fall in love, it was with a former student of all things, a Gryfinndor, a know it all at that.

But maybe just maybe his luck was about to change for what he saw was a cauldron and by that cauldron several vials and notes. He poured over them, sharp eyes hungry, sniffed them, stirred them around, his mind speeding away at a rate that would have made Hermione proud.

"It's a form of the draught of the living death, if I had to guess. Something he's been working on. He lured out Crookshanks, the student… so he could get his hands on her and give her this. Harry made himself too accessible as always…" He scolded.

"But what does it do, Severus?" They pleaded.

"It makes us think we are somewhere we would try to escape," A groggy voice interrupted them. "But the only way to wake up is to give up." Harry spoke, ashamed but too wane to blush.

"If it had taken you any longer, you would have starved to death." Headmistress observed. Their state was only partially suspended. They were wasting, weakening.

Their sights turned at once upon Hermione. And he knew. Severus Snape knew that without a doubt Hermione Granger was never, ever going to give up.

She lay there, wasting away like one of those sick fairy tales she had shown him in that book. And there was nothing he could do. She was trapped somewhere, fighting so hard to get back home, and to save her friend. She wasn't going to leave Harry alone. She wasn't going to leave _him_ alone. It was the perfect trap. Rex did not use their flawed nature against them; he had used their goodness.

And that meant it was stronger. She was never going to wake up.

-00-

He walked as if underwater as they levitated the others up to the hospital wing. He seemed to be seeing things happen as if observing through a pensieve. He saw them restrain Rex magically, but surprisingly felt nothing, not even surprise. He still looked like Harry, like there were two sleeping Harry's floating up through the castle. The windows were open by the white beds. Voices were whispers, but Harry was talking. The others were caring for him, waiting on him. _He_ was safe. Snape tried hard not hate him for it. "Tell her to give up! Go to sleep!" He urged Snape.

Snape knew it was no use. He was going to sit there until she was gone, and then he was going to the astronomy tower. It might be night by then. It would be quiet and pretty. He always liked the night.

"He's crying." Draco murmured.

This came as no shock to hear, but Potter wasn't crying. Severus was looking right at him being half held down in a hospital bed, and the younger man wasn't shedding a tear.

"Severus, I'm so sorry. It's Lily all over again." Someone said, with a hand on his shoulder. He stared on in muddled silence. "Who?"

While Hermione could not see it, above the forest, the sun rose.

* * *

A/N: What do you think will happen next? Thoughts on this spell? More to come soon... Please review. Elsie


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